


choices, darling

by planetsuh



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Class Differences, Classism, Dubious Consent, Elite AU, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Multi, Murder, Polyamorous relationship, Poverty, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, sex under the influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2020-10-20 01:10:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 50,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20666828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planetsuh/pseuds/planetsuh
Summary: Three students—Johnny, Doyoung and Taeil—are given scholarships to the elite school across town when the roof of their own school collapses. However, things turn problematic when every student is a suspect in a fellow classmate’s murder.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> nct x elite au where you don't need to have watched elite on netflix to understand what's happening, it's just what the story is loosely based off of.
> 
> without further ado, enjoy!!

part one.

The bright flash from the bulb of of a camera blinds Johnny for a moment. Staring blankly at the glass wall before him, the blinding flash is the only thing he can really see. Everything happening around him is in slow motion, every sound muffled in his ears, his vision blurry and unreliable.

But there’s the unmistakable image before him, as crime scene specialists zip up the black body bag, a pool of blood beside them, blood that’s on Johnny’s hands as well.

A knock on the glass alerts Johnny, pulling him out of his trance. One look and he sees the investigator, called here when the body was found, the body Johnny can’t get the image of out of his head.

The investigator beckons Johnny forward with a finger, and so Johnny does his best to clear his head, before joining the investigator on the other side of the glass.

-

Johnny meets Taeil and Doyoung out by the front gate of Neo Culture Tech, wearing a confident smirk and a too-loose tie that Doyoung immediately tries to fix for him. 

“Lay off!” Johnny laughs as he dodges his friend, Taeil watching to the side, sighing deeply and rolling his eyes.

Doyoung eventually gives in, looking at Johnny indignantly. “You’re gonna get in trouble. We haven't even started our first day, can we at least try and be good students for a little while before they toss us out and don't look back?”

Rolling his eyes, Johnny shoulders his messenger bag he tossed on the ground and scoffs. “Please. After what happened at our old school? They would never dare leave us to the wolves. It would be too bad for their perfect, polished reputations.” Pointing to his scalp, Johnny grins. “Finally, this head did something positive for me when it comes to school.”

Taeil smiles. “Yeah, getting hit in the head by a chunk of concrete when the ceiling of our old school collapsed was a real win for you.”  


Doyoung join Taeil’s laughter, and the two begin the walk into school together, passing through the open iron gates with Johnny trailing behind them, questioning their laughter jokingly. 

The closer they get to the main campus, the more entranced the three are. Neo Culture Tech is a large building, constructed of mostly white concrete, looking like marble and glass in the bright sun. Johnny juts in between Doyoung and Taeil, throwing an arm around each of them. “This, gentlemen,” he announces, “is our new home.”  


The three walk inside, Doyoung eagerly looking around at the expensive architecture, Taeil trying not to look too bothered, and Johnny smirking at everyone he makes eye contact with as he struts down the hallway. It’s almost as if they’re giving off an aura—the three are not to be touched by anyone, too poor for the masses at Neo Culture Tech—and everyone in the hallway avoids them with a wide berth, looking almost distastefully at them as they pass.

“You know,” Johnny says, mirth rich in his tone, and Doyoung almost rolls his eyes in principle. “For an all boys’ school, I’m seeing some pretty faces.”

Taeil shoves his elbow into Johnny’s side, eliciting a groan of indignation. “Can you shut the hell up?” he asks, eyebrow raised. “If you have something gross to say, just do everyone a favor and keep it to yourself.”

  
Doyoung hums his agreement, winking at Johnny when they lock eyes. “Fine, I’ll never talk again,” Johnny says dramatically. Put in his place, he pouts, dragging his feet as the three continue down the hallway, lined with perfectly clean lockers and perfectly dressed students.

“Look,” Doyoung says in a near whisper, “I thought it was just a rumor.”

“What?” Taeil asks, looking at Doyoung, who points to the end of the hallway. There, right before the stairs, is a trophy case, made entirely of glass and looking entirely obnoxious as it holds just the one trophy, a miniature sculpture of a human body with no head, body and arms bent gracefully, like a dancer.

Johnny huffs as he spots what the other two are looking at. “That thing looks rusty. What’s it supposed to be?”

Doyoung sniffs, irritated. “It’s this trophy the school gives to one student each year. The highest performing student academically gets the trophy, and with it a scholarship to attend a school in Seoul with a direct connection to a prestigious university there. It’s like a golden ticket out of here,” Doyoung explains, hearts in his eyes. “I thought it was just a rumor that this trophy even existed, but of course the rich kids get an opportunity like this handed to them on a silver platter.”  


“You can win that trophy, Doyoung,” Taeil murmurs encouragingly, eyeing the trophy too, but knowing he’s nowhere near the level Doyoung is, and therefore nowhere near trophy-level.

“I know I can,” Doyoung declares, just the right amount of confident, “that’s why I swore to myself that I’m here for one reason and one reason only: for school. I know Johnny here is gonna party the first chance he gets, and you, Taeil, you die if you don’t have anyone to socialize with, but me? I’m not here to make friends. I’m here for that trophy. I’m here to get the hell out of this town.”

“Sounds ambitious,” says a smooth voice from behind the three, causing them all to jump and turn in synch like a scene from a movie. “Seems like you'll have no trouble fitting in after all.”  
  
Doyoung eyes the new presence suspiciously, though he can hear Johnny licking his lips beside him, eyeing the boy with eyes that would make anyone at their old school melt into the floor. The boy, on the other hand, looks anything but impressed, eyeing Johnny as if he’s a bacteria he found on the bottom of his shoe earlier.

“I’m Jungwoo,” the boy introduces himself, “and I already know all of you. The entire school’s been able to talk about nothing else since we heard about your school collapsing. How terrible!” he steps closer, slow and deliberate, hips swaying with intent. His eyes lock on Johnny again, this time with concern that Doyoung would bet money is false. “And I heard you were actually hit by the debris?” Jungwoo tuts, tilting his head to the side, a small pout on his lips, “how awful.”

Johnny shrugs, a wanting look still in his eyes as he glances over Jungwoo’s body, from his hip jutted out to the thin hand placed over it, dainty fingers curled around. “Already over it. No permanent damage.”

“You sure about that?” Jungwoo asks, tone kind but words sharp.

Doyoung steps forward, a fire lighting beneath him already. “Hey! Just because we come from the other side of town doesn't mean we—“

“Oh! Honey, no,” Jungwoo says slowly, concern now lighting his features, and now Doyoung is sure it’s false, “this has nothing to do you with being from the other side of town. I have friends on the other side of town, they’re doing fine. You know the difference between them and you, though?”

“No,” Doyoung sniffs, “what?”

Jungwoo smirks now, all pity, concern and kindness gone from his expression, replaced with pure ice. “They know their places. They wait for me to address them before addressing me, they’re quiet and docile, easily contorted to fit the image I pay for. Because I have the money and they don’t. Because I belong in this school and they don’t. _You_ don’t,” Jungwoo’s eyes roam over the three of them. “You may wear the uniforms and sit in the classes, taking your notes and having your fun, but let’s get one thing straight. You three? You’re playing pretend, all of you, and I won’t hesitate to put any of you in your place should you…step out of line and forget that, yes?”

He’s met with silence, Johnny, Doyoung and Taeil completely stunned by the abrupt turn of conversation. 

“Fantastic,” Jungwoo says cheerfully, playful smile returning to his face, evil draining from his eyes as he steps back from the group. “I hope you’re all three still here when _I_ receive the trophy at the end-of-year party the school throws! Until then! See you in class!” With that, he walks away, aura trailing behind him. 

Johnny blinks. “What the fu—“

“The _nerve_!” Doyoung shouts, high-pitched and wavering, displaying his anger clearly. “How could he be so…rude? Right in front of us? Like it’s nothing?” 

“We knew what we were getting into when we accepted the scholarships,” Taeil says, very much a peacekeeper in the situation. “I mean, we may not have wanted it to, but we still knew. These people…they’re the elite. They look down on people like us.”

At that, Doyoung’s eyes narrow. “We shouldn't have to be used to something like that. We shouldn't expect to be treated like we’re nothing. We’re here because we deserve to be here. Because we earned it. Well, at least you and me,” Doyoung side-eyes his friend, “no offense Johnny.”  


“None taken,” Johnny says good-naturedly. 

Taeil sighs, eager to switch topics. “C’mon,” he says placatingly, pressing his hand to Doyoung’s shoulder, comforting. “You can still work hard for the trophy. What’s the worst that Jungwoo kid can do, kill you?” The two laugh, trying to picture someone like Jungwoo—a mean streak a mile wide but still a cookie-cutter image of society—doing something that violent. Even Johnny joins in once he gets over the odd direction the conversation turned.

“We should probably start looking for our class,” Doyoung says, “rich people school starts late as hell, but I think the bell should be ringing any minute now.”

The three make their way up the stairs, trophy and Jungwoo both forgotten.

-

“Today, I welcome you to a new week, but I also welcome three new students to our class,” the teacher says, voice authoritative. “Please, introduce yourselves,” she says, gesturing to Johnny, Doyoung and Taeil, all awkwardly standing beside her at the front of the room.

Doyoung smiles—close-mouthed, he’s heard enough about his teeth to last a lifetime—at the room, noticing Jungwoo sitting in the second row in the middle of the classroom, hanging off the arm of a boy with dyed purple hair, faded to a nice lilac shade. “I’m Doyoung Kim,” he says, “I’m grateful for the opportunity to be here.” With that, he shuts down.

Johnny, noticing the horribly empty silence that carries when Doyoung finishes so abruptly, steps in, smiling wide and graciously. “I’m Johnny Seo. Yes, I’m the one who got hit in the head. No, I don’t have permanent brain damage,” he says playfully, sending a wink Jungwoo’s way, who scoffs in retaliation, nestling further into the boy sitting beside him.

“And I’m Taeil Moon. I’m also thankful to be here,” Taeil says quietly, “that’s all.”

Feeling the weight of the gazes of everyone in the room, the three shift uncomfortably, waiting and praying for the teacher to retake the floor and assign them seats.

“Okay,” she says, jilted apparently that the three didn't have an elaborate introduction planned for the class, “um, Johnny and Doyoung, the two of you can take that table in front of my desk—don’t worry, I don't sit there often—and Taeil…ah! There’s an empty seat beside Yuta. You’re welcome to sit there. Now, class! Today we’re going to be going over some basic…”

Taeil walks slowly down the aisle, watching Johnny and Doyoung get settled together at the front, silently cursing the teacher for separating _him_ from the other two. He had been hoping not to be immediately thrust into situations of interaction with the rich students, wanting instead to ease in on his own time, feeling out the waters before diving in, as they say.

The only other empty chair in the room is by Yuta, presumably, a boy dressed in a relaxed version of the uniform, too many buttons unbuttoned from the dress shirt, leaving his pale chest on display, a group of chains hanging off his neck to fill the space. His hair is dyed a nice red, hair curling up the sides of his neck in a flattering way, framing his face. He isn't wearing a tie—Doyoung would consider that a personal offense, if he noticed—and his blazer is close to hanging off one shoulder, a few sizes too big for his skinny frame.

Taeil sits, keeping his bag far from Yuta’s side of the table, not too into the idea of pissing off a second spoiled rich kid within his first hour on campus. Yuta barely reacts to Taeil’s presence next to him, shifting ever so slightly so he isn't leaning so far over towards Taeil, instead slouching the other direction, in the other aisle, where the prettiest boy Taeil’s ever seen is sitting, pretty doe eyes focused on the papers in front of him, full lips curled into a slight frown as he scribbles something down on his notes. 

Yuta barely reacts to Taeil’s presence beside him, that is, until he notices his eyes on the boy sitting on the other side of the aisle. “Like looking at my boyfriend, do you?” Yuta asks, voice quiet but sharp, an edge to it that makes Taeil shiver. To his surprise, however, Yuta’s glad quickly turns into a smirk, one so dirty it makes Taeil squirm under the other boy’s gaze. “Don’t blame you,” he says casually, tongue running across his upper lip, “he’s a pretty thing, isn't he?”  


Taeil, now incredibly uncomfortable, merely flushes and looks back to the front of the classroom, keeping his eyes on the backs of Johnny and Doyoung’s heads, the latter of which is trying to get his friend to open a notebook and write down something that the teacher is saying, a failing notion, if looks are any indication.

He hears Yuta hum beside him, but doesn't let himself get curious enough to look over at his table partner.

Taeil’s here to make good grades and keep his scholarship, maybe making a couple friends of convenience along the way. He definitely isn't here to get tangled up with a spoiled brat and his pretty little boyfriend, not matter how sinful the pair of them look.

-

Johnny’s walking the hallways of Neo Culture Tech, still reveling in how clean the campus is, when he stumbles into an empty classroom that smells distinctly like…

“I thought this was supposed to be a drug-free campus?” Johnny asks teasingly, watching the boy sitting on the windowsill quickly put out the joint in his hand, hiding it in his pocket, seemingly uncaring if the heat from the end of it burns a hole through his pocket. “How careless could you be? Anyone could've walked by and saw you, or _smelled_ you, for that matter. You're lucky I’m so generous and that I won’t be saying anything.”

The boy rolls his eyes, fishing the joint back out of his pocket to roll between his fingers. “Like that would actually get anywhere. They couldn't kick me out of this place if they tried.”  


“And why’s that?” Johnny asks, curiosity getting the better of him as he sits down in a chair near the boy, still perched on the sill.

“Because,” the boy starts, a bit dramatic for Johnny’s taste, “my father practically funds this campus. The shine in the windows? The squeaky clean floors? The newest tech in all the classrooms? He paid for all of it, and I’m pretty sure he paid for you and your friends’ scholarships too.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow at that. “Your father’s construction company built my old school? He's the one who was held responsible when the roof collapsed?”

The boy smirks. “That would be him! The one and only!”

“I take it you aren't happy about that fact?” Johnny remarks, sitting back to marvel at the boy in front of him.

His eyes are piercing and, from what Johnny’s gathering, very easy to read. He can see the blatant disdain when he speaks about his father, the boredom talking of the state of the campus. But Johnny knows these types of people, and also knows he's probably only seeing what the boy wants him to see. He's also entirely too pretty for Johnny to handle, all angles, sharp jawline and pointed chin, a nose that slopes down and an eyebrow with a slice shaved into it. His hair is dyed an icy platinum blonde, with a closely shaved undercut and styled to look windswept.

“I’m just…tired, is all,” the boy sighs, resting his head against the window and looking outside to the students walking around during their study hall, a concept Johnny had never heard of until he got to this rich people school. “Tired of my father and everything else.”

“Everything else…?” Johnny prompts, not knowing exactly why he's still talking to the boy, but not entirely eager to go searching for his friends.

The boy looks back at Johnny, sharp eyebrow raised as he regards him. “You’re Johnny Seo? The one who hit his head?”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Is that gonna be my label the entire time I’m here? I’m only ever gonna be known as Johnny: The Boy Who Hit His Head?”

“Probably,” the boy replies ruthlessly, eyes shining with something Johnny can’t decipher. “I’m Taeyong Lee, the pretty, rich boy with pretty, rich boy problems. We all have labels. Deal with it.”

“Taeyong Lee,” the name rolls off Johnny’s tongue like velvet, catching in his mouth and giving him a warm, pleasant feeling all over his body. “I think you're more than that. I’ll prove to you that you’re more than that.”

-

Taeil finds the locker room finally, heaving a sigh of relief when he does, realizing he's almost late to gym class. Rushing inside, he finds the locker with his name engraved into the plaque, rolling his eyes at the waste of money—the plaques will have to be replaced every few years when new students join the ranks—before opening it and stuffing his bag inside, gym uniform conveniently hanging off the rack inside the locker.

As Taeil starts unbuttoning his shirt, a loud whine distracts him, followed by muffled moans and rustling. Blushing, Taeil quickly realizes what he's stumbled upon, and tries to get changed in peace, not bothering to carefully fold his uniform, shoving it in the locker instead, wanting to get outside and away from the raunchy noises as quickly as possible.

Taeil hears a stuttered yelp followed by a crash, and curiosity gets the better of him, coupled with a desire to possibly help whoever it was that caused the clanging sound reverberating throughout the locker room. 

“Yeah, stay on your knees, slut,” he hears a voice murmur, an all too familiar voice that sends a chill down Taeil’s spine.

Rounding the corner, Taeil sees Yuta leaning against a row of lockers, khakis pulled down to his knees, a pair of hands pulling them further down his legs to grant access. Yuta grips the head of thick, dark hair—his boyfriend, Taeil realizes, from class earlier—and shoves it into his crotch, grinding onto the other’s face and throwing his head back when his boyfriend pulls up his shirt and swallows his dick down.

Embarrassed, Taeil tries to think of an escape plan. The exit door is near Yuta and his boyfriend, and he clearly can’t just walk past them without either realizing he's there. Stunned into place, Taeil can’t help but watch the scene in front of him unfold, as Yuta’s boyfriend gags, sputtering when Yuta releases him, spit catching on his cock and dripping all over his boyfriend’s face. 

“That’s right, suck this dick,” Yuta instructs, voice low and hard as he thrusts his boyfriend back onto his dick, pleasure all over his face as he lets out a groan.

Taeil can feel himself growing hard in his gym shorts, loose enough to make his erection visible, and in an effort to conceal it, he accidentally knocks into an open locker door, the sound of it swinging shut alerting both Yuta and his boyfriend, who manages to look to the side while still locked onto Yuta’s cock, swallowing and gagging at the sight of someone else in the room, panic clear in his eyes.

Yuta, on the other hand, smirks evilly at the sight of Taeil, getting even more comfortable against the lockers as he eyes Taeil up, refusing to break eye contact. His hand remains strongly tangled in his boyfriend’s hair, who’s actively trying to get off Yuta’s cock and probably far away from here, cheeks flushed red under the extra attention.

“Look, Sicheng,” Yuta moans out, licking his lips and eyeing Taeil up and down, eyes lighting up when he spots Taeil’s erection in his shorts, “Taeil wants to watch. I bet he loves watching you choke on my dick, not being able to do anything but stand there and get hard. Your pretty lips around my cock made him so hard, hmm?”

Sicheng, that’s his name. He looks up at Yuta with wide, frantic doe eyes, lips full, wet and red around Yuta still, throat moving, indicating he's still actively sucking. Taeil holds in a moan at the sight, hands clasped in front of him, trying to keep one from wandering down to his own dick.

“Maybe he wants to join us, huh?” Yuta taunts, pulling Sicheng’s head back and forth on his cock, Sicheng swallowing and taking it the best he can. “Maybe he wants his cock in that sinful little mouth of yours?”

At these words, Sicheng moans around Yuta’s cock, a pitiful sound that’s muffled by the dick down his throat and the strain he's already been through from the rough blowjob. “You want that?” Yuta asks, eye dangerous as he takes his boyfriend in. “You want Taeil in your mouth too? How about in your ass, huh? Want him in your pretty little ass?”

Sicheng’s eyes roll into the back of his head at the words, his head moving of his own accord, Yuta having removed his hand from his thick hair finally, watching as his boyfriend chokes himself on his cock over and over again. “Yeah, work yourself on my cock, you bitch,” Yuta spits, closing his eyes and moaning.

When Yuta opens his eyes again, Taeil has disappeared.

-

When Jungwoo finds Doyoung standing in front of the trophy case again, admiring the figure with a fire in his eyes that’s unmatched by most of his other classmates, he can’t help but scoff at the sight, rolling his eyes and tugging on Jaehyun’s arm, calling his attention to it.

“Ugh, why can’t that little bitch learn his place?” Jungwoo spits angrily.

Jaehyun observes his boyfriend and his anger, speaking slowly and softly. “Isn’t a little competition good for you, baby? This way, when you earn the trophy, you’ll know you’ve truly earned it?”

Glaring at Doyoung, Jungwoo pouts. “That trophy’s been mine since the second I step foot on this campus. I’m miles ahead in the class rank, second place doesn't even come close to me. I deserve it, and I’m not letting him and his stuck-up little attitude ruin this for me.”

Sighing Jaehyun concedes, wrapping an arm around Jungwoo’s neck and pulling him close. “I get that,” he plants a long kiss on Jungwoo’s lips, humming happily when his boyfriend concedes, smiling warmly at him afterwards, “I’m on your side.”  


Jungwoo brightens. “Thank you, baby,” he kisses Jaehyun again, sliding his tongue into his mouth and moaning quietly, so only he can hear.

The two stay pressed together, against the lockers and away from the general public walking the hallway for a minute more, before an idea strikes Jungwoo and he releases his boyfriend, gasping at his thought and giggling with delight and a bit of maliciousness when he thinks of the end result.

“What’s up?” Jaehyun asks, recognizing the look on his boyfriend’s face.

Jungwoo smirks, looking back at Doyoung. “I’m just thinking of how sweet it’ll be to see Doyoung Kim knocked down a peg or two.”  


Jaehyun raises an eyebrow, looking over at Doyoung and studying him, curious. “What’d you have in mind?”

“The poor boy,” Jungwoo starts, lip pouted and tone full of false sympathy, “he’s so focused on his studies all the time, I doubt he’s really _lived_. You know, had a boyfriend, fucked someone, experienced a…_tragic_ heartbreak right as the year is closing and exams are upon us.”  


At the emphasis, Jaehyun glances at his boyfriend, seeing the malice in his eyes and knowing what’s coming. “You want _me_ to seduce _Doyoung_? You realize how insane that sounds, right?”  


Jungwoo nods. “No one will expect it. You leaving me for Doyoung, falling in love with him, distracting him from his studies, only to realize what you’re missing with me and coming right on back, right at the perfect moment. Poor Doyoung fails his exams, he didn't stand a chance really. After all, you've been keeping him from studying the entire year, who would've guessed he actually _pass_ any of his exams, right?”

Jaehyun smirks. “You’re evil,” he says fondly, “I’ll do it. For you.”  


Humming, Jungwoo kisses Jaehyun’s cheek, petting it afterwards. “And that’s why I love you so.”

-

The day finishes and Johnny, Doyoung and Taeil making it back to the other side of town without any issue. After bidding Doyoung and Taeil a goodbye, Johnny rides his back further into town, where the houses get even smaller and the apartments get taller and dingier. Stopping at the building that looks as if it’s falling apart, Johnny arrives home. Chaining up his bike, he walks up the stairs—four flights with broken scaffolding everywhere he steps and no functioning elevator to use as another option—out of breath by the time he makes it to his floor.

Rounding the corner of the hallway, Johnny stops in his tracks. The door to his apartment his wide open, a pair of shoes he doesn't recognize sitting in the hallway right next to the entryway. 

Johnny creeps into the apartment, swiftly picking up the metal baseball bat that sits beside the door for occasions such as these. He grips it with both hands, messenger bag sliding down his shoulder with every movement, and Johnny prays it doesn't jostle too much and alert the intruder of any movement at the door. Johnny walks further into the apartment, breathing heavily under the nerves and stress he feels, baseball bat held high, ready to swing at any moment.

“Yo, Johnny—!” the intruder—and how do they even know Johnny’s name?—is cut off when Johnny immediately swings the bat at the person’s head, growling when they duck and take off running towards the kitchen area. “Hey, man! Cut that shit out!”  


“Shut the fuck up!” Johnny yells, chasing after the intruder, bat still actively swinging as he runs. 

He crashes into the fridge rounding the corner, magnets and pictures falling off the appliance as he does so, the grip on his bat becoming less reliable as his hands get sweatier and sweatier. 

“Johnny! Bro! It’s me!” the intruder yells, and Johnny’s vision clears enough to realize that he knows this person.

Of course, the man who always leaves the goddamn door swung completely open, usually napping in the back or lazing on the couch watching TV, completely unaware of his surroundings, basically asking to be robbed. The man who took Johnny in when his parents were gave up on him, helping him find a job and a school and a place to call home, never once letting him slips through the cracks.

“Ten,” Johnny breathed a sigh of relief, letting the bat drop to the floor with a loud clang, “it’s you.”  


Johnny’s roommate smiles warmly, arms open. “Hey, baby,” he announces, “I’m back.”  


Johnny falls into Ten’s arms like old times, like it hasn't been eight months since he last saw the man he calls his brother. “When did you get out?” Johnny asks, muffled by Ten’s shirt and the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

Ten chuckles, petting Johnny’s hair soothingly. “Just last night. I crashed with a friend of a friend ‘cause I didn't wanna bother you. I heard you were going to this rich people school, didn't wanna fuck you up on your first day.”

At the explanation, Johnny’s insides grow warm, and he snuggles further into Ten’s arms without premonition.

“So,” Ten says, releasing Johnny and holding him with both hands clutched around his forearms, looking up at his friend, “you ready to fuck some rich shit up or what?”

-

Johnny stares at the blood coating his hands, unable to register anything the investigator in front of him is saying. His hands shake under the weight of his gaze, but he can’t seem to stop looking. He’s entranced, watching as a steady drip of blood runs from his hands and hits the floor, splattering the ground with stark red on the white concrete, creating two small puddles beneath him.

He thinks of the body, the bag being carried away right in front of him, and Johnny passes out.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> poor kids interact with the creepy, mean rich kids.

part two.

A bright light shines in Johnny’s eye, startling him and causing him to squint, eyes watering as he tries to make something out in the brightness. 

“Let’s start from the beginning,” the investigator says, voice clipped as she sets down a file full of pictures from the crime scene.

-

“So, how’s rich people school treating you anyway?” Ten asks, one hand on the steering wheel, the other propped on the center console. Johnny stares out the window almost sullenly, watching as the streets get cleaner and houses get nicer the farther and farther they drive.

Ten punches Johnny in the shoulder, causing him to finally look over at his friend. “What?” he asks indignantly, rubbing his sore arm.

“What’s going on in that place?” Ten repeats. “Is it as cultist as it seems? Is everyone there millionaires? What do they even talk about during class, how to take over a company and fuck over every employee in the process?”

Johnny can’t help the chuckle he lets out. “I don’t know, man, it seems pretty normal. Aside from the fact that you walk around knowing for a fact that everyone in the place could purchase you as a person to work for them for the rest of our lives. Other than that, yeah, I guess it’s just school.”  


Ten hums, nodding in assent. “Go to any parties yet?”

“I’ve spent the past week with you, so no,” Johnny laughs, resting his head against the car seat now, looking over at Ten fondly. “I missed you, brother,” he says, completely serious.

Ten looks over for a second, smiling when he sees how serious Johnny is. “I missed you too, Johnny.”

He reaches over and squeezes his shoulder just as the car pulls onto campus. “Neo Culture Tech,” Ten murmurs, looking around in awe. “What the hell does it mean anyway?”

Johnny laughs loudly this time. “No one has any idea, trust me.”

Taeil and Doyoung are standing on the corner of the sidewalk, waiting for Johnny so the three can walk into school together. Ten merely waves Johnny goodbye before driving off, careful not to get too close to the nice limousines the rich kids are being dropped off in with his tin can of a car. 

“So…” Doyoung trails off, side-eyeing Taeil, who nods encouragingly. “Not to be nosy, but that’s the third time in a row that Ten’s dropped you off at school. And I guess I’m not in the minority when I ask, is he back for good now?”  


Johnny looks at Taeil, who seems sheepish, head hanging but still looking up at Johnny, curious as ever.

“To be honest guys,” Johnny says, “I really don’t know. He showed up at the apartment a week ago and said he had gotten out the day before. I don’t really know what his long-term plan is though, he hasn't said.”  


Taeil nods. “Let’s hope he figures it out soon then.”  
  
Doyoung looks less convinced. “I mean, did he say anything about being back for good? Or about finding a job? Any indication that he might be sticking around this time? What’s he been doing since he got back?”

Johnny sighs, wrapping an arm around Doyoung’s shoulders. “I couldn't tell you, Doyoung. I just wanna get through today, and then we’ll be officially done with our first week here. How’s that?”

“I guess,” Doyoung mutters, allowing himself to be steered into school, Taeil trailing behind them.

-

After lunch, the three get to their next class—a multimedia class with absolutely no purpose, if you ask Doyoung—where the teacher is standing at the front, ready to conduct class. Taeil and Doyoung move to go to their regular seats together, Johnny next to a random boy behind them, but the teacher stops them with a “wait, boys!” gesturing to everyone else in the class, none of whom are sitting, all standing around the perimeter of the class, waiting for the teacher presumably.

“What the hell is this about?” Taeil hears Doyoung mutter to Johnny as the three move to join the rest of the class by the windows.

The final bell rings and the teacher claps her hands, smiling widely. “Okay! So, for this year, this class has a project requirement that usually involves a partnership. This project requires you to get to know your partner pretty well, and for the sake of it, I will be partnering you up myself to ensure you aren't already partnered with someone you know well. So…”  
  
Taeil hears groans around the room, seeing plenty of rolling eyes to accompany them. He can’t help but feel the same way. What was wrong with sitting in his usually spot with Doyoung and partnering with him on the project? That way, he’d have insurance that his partner would do his half, and probably then some, if he's being honest.

“…and then I’ll have Jaehyun Jung and Doyoung Kim, please!”

Doyoung groans and drags his feet as he sits at the table the teacher indicated, sitting down next to the boy they see Jungwoo hanging off of at every waking second. 

“Taeyong Lee, you’ll be with Johnny Seo over here. And then Taeil Moon, you’re with Sicheng Dong at that far table.”

Taeil freezes at his name, seeing Sicheng already making his way to sit at the table. A flush covers his cheeks as he remember what happened the last time se saw Sicheng, on his knees in front of Yuta in the locker room. Taeil doesn't know how he’ll get the project done if he can’t look Sicheng in the eye.

Taeil finally walks over to the table, sitting down next to Sicheng and trying not to be as awkward as possible.

As the teacher continues her lesson, he can feel eyes boring into the side of his head. When he finally gets the courage to look, he sees Sicheng staring directly at him, nervousness and fear in his expression.

“Um,” Sicheng starts, a blush already gathering on his cheeks and down his neck. “You’re the guy from the locker room, right?”

Taeil splutters, looking away for a second before looking back, Sicheng’s gaze never wavering even as Taeil struggles. “Yes…?” he says, his ending tone making it sound like a question.

Sicheng huffs, looking rightfully embarrassed. “Look, if we can just both forget that even happened, I would really—“  


“Completely!” Taeil agrees instantly, trying to keep his voice down.

“Really?” Sicheng asks, tone hopeful but eyes doubtful.

Taeil nods, smiling graciously. “I never saw anything. I got changed and left the locker room to go outside to my class immediately afterwards. In fact, this is my first time meeting you.”  
  
The relief on Sicheng’s face sends a pang through Taeil’s chest, and he wonders how long Sicheng’s been carrying that weight around since Taeil saw him in the locker room. “Thank you so much. I know it looked like I was enjoying it, but sometimes Yuta can go a little overboard and—“

“Hey,” Taeil gently interrupts, placing a delicate hand on Sicheng’s arm, “we don’t have to talk about it, okay?”  


“Okay,” Sicheng agrees easily, returning his attention to his notes.

Taeil sighs quietly and digs out his own, a little more confident in his ability to work on the project now.

-

Johnny, having weaseled his way into going to Taeyong’s house for the project, sits happily in the living room while Taeyong goes to get his tablet and other supplies. Watching the pretty boy walk away was reason enough to sit contentedly in the corner. 

The conversation leading to Johnny and Taeyong working on the project at Taeyong’s house was a very quick one, where thankfully, Johnny didn't need to reveal that the apartment he's living in at the moment is falling apart at the seams and isn't in well enough condition to have company on the scale of Taeyong Lee. As a matter of fact, Taeyong was rather insistent Johnny come over, and whether it was out of a fear of stepping into Johnny’s home or a desire to be in territory he is familiar with, Johnny would have been an idiot to refuse.

“So we’ll just set up in the living room and then we can get started…oh,” another voice from the hallway startles Johnny out of his thinking trance. Jaehyun and Doyoung are standing in the hallway, armed with backpacks and technology and staring directly at Johnny. “What are you doing here?”

Johnny blinks. “What are _you_ doing here? This is Taeyong’s house.”  


Laughing, Jaehyun comes into the living room and sets his stuff down, pointedly glancing at Johnny to let him know that he doesn't plan to leave. “It’s my house too.”

“You two live together?” Doyoung asks, hesitantly following Jaehyun into the room. “I thought you were dating Jungwoo?”  


Jaehyun looks up at Doyoung and laughs again, this time incredulously. “I am! Oh my god, no, um, Taeyong’s my brother.”

Doyoung and Johnny stare blankly, not blinking.

“We’re…we’re related,” Jaehyun finishes lamely, put off by the stares.

Taeyong returns to the room then, tablet in hand, steps stuttering to a stop when he sees the extra company in the living room. “Jaehyun,” he greets, not unpleasantly. “I thought I told you I was going to be using the living room for the project today.”

Jaehyun smiles kindly. “_Oh_, was that _today_?” he asks, tone a little too sweet, almost sickly. “Well, I’ve already brought Doyoung all the way here, so I think we’re just going to stay. Maybe you should find somewhere else to work on the project?”  


It was a demand, but his cadence makes it sound like a question, innocent enough to pass, but Johnny sees right through him. Jaehyun’s glance towards Taeyong turns ice cold the longer the latter stands there staring, and Johnny can feel himself and Doyoung getting more and more uncomfortable as the seconds pass.

“Well, Taeyong and Johnny were here first, so maybe we should just go somewhere else to work—“

“We can leave,” Taeyong interrupts Doyoung, shooting him a bright smile as consolation. “It’s no problem.” He turns to Johnny, expression open and slightly pleading. “Johnny, is there any way we could take this back to your place?”

Johnny stutters under the attention. “U-um, I guess? Sure, that works.”  


“Great,” Taeyong smiles, turning to Jaehyun again. “We’ll be on our way.”

-

“Sorry about that,” Jaehyun smiles warmly at Doyoung, “can I get you anything? Something to drink? Something to eat?”

Doyoung blinks. “That guy’s your brother?” he asks bluntly.

Jaehyun laughs, a little uncomfortable. “Yeah, well no, not biologically. I was adopted, but yes, technically he is my brother.”  


“Oh,” Doyoung says simply. “Adopted, huh?”  


“Yeah,” Jaehyun replies shortly, “we don’t need to talk about it anymore. It’s just that, nothing else to it.”  


Doyoung smirks a little. “Well, technically, the project requires us to create a multimedia presentation about our partner and their lives, so the whole adoption thing could be of great use to me, really,” he says, voice lilting and teasing.

Jaehyun hums, looking at Doyoung somewhat appreciatively. “I guess so,” he starts, sitting down next to Doyoung, a few inches too close. “We can get into it later, I suppose. I wanna talk about you first.”  


“Me?” Doyoung asks, shrinking in on himself slightly. “Why me?”  


“Oh!” Jaehyun exclaims, sitting back on his hands, “are we shy now? Is that what’s happening?”

Blushing, Doyoung turns away. “No,” he replies unconvincingly. “This is your house, your turf. I just figured we’d start with you, that’s all.”

Jaehyun’s tongue clicks. “Uh huh,” he mutters, and Doyoung knows the other doesn't believe a word he’s saying. “Well, I think, as the guest, I should be making you more comfortable. So, we’ll start with you, and I’ll go easy on you, don’t worry. Just basic questions.”

Hesitating, Doyoung nods slightly. “Okay,” he says, hating how small he sounds.

The two get comfortably situated on the ground around the rather large coffee table in the center of the obnoxiously spacious room. Jaehyun pulls out a notebook to write things down in, pen twiddling between his fingers, and Doyoung can’t help but feel nervous. He doesn't even know Jaehyun, had just met him that day in class, and now he's going to have to answer very personal questions that he’d rather not get into.

Jaehyun had told the truth, however, and his first question is easy. “What’s your full name?”  


Doyoung scoffs, thinking there must be more, but Jaehyun’s silence and expectant expression causes him to doubt himself. He flushes, embarrassed at his own reaction. “Dongyoung Kim. Doyoung is a nickname.”

“Really?” Jaehyun asks, interested. Or, he at least _sounds_ interested. Doyoung, while intelligent, isn't quite as adept at reading people as Johnny has always been. “Why the nickname?”

Doyoung shrugs. “Just something my mom came up with for me when I was little, that’s all,” he responds, hoping Jaehyun doesn't pry too deep into his childhood.

“Alright,” Jaehyun says, apparently satisfied, “moving on,” he then says, expression turning serious. “What’s your favorite after school activity?”

After school activity…besides studying, Doyoung isn't known to do much else. His ears turn red the longer he thinks, Jaehyun waiting patiently for his answer. Doyoung’s afraid of boring him, of Jaehyun cutting the project short and suggesting they meet up some other time, of having to go back home just to study some more and do nothing else.

“I like to swim,” Doyoung answers warily, peeking up through his lashes at Jaehyun.

Jaehyun looks surprised, but he quickly schools himself as he matches Doyoung’s gaze. “Swimming, huh? I have a pool if you’re interested?”

“No, no!” Doyoung replies insistently. “I’m not here to borrow your clothes and swim in your pool, I’m here to work on the project then leave, that’s it. You don't need to entertain me anymore than I need to take a swim in your pool,” he tries for a joke at the end there, but it falls a little flat, Doyoung never being one who wit comes easily to. He shrinks back in on himself, chiding himself for even opening up in the first place. He should've just given the simplest answers possible, gotten the work done, then left for the nearest bus stop.

“It’s not a problem if you want to swim, Doyoung,” Jaehyun says gently after a few seconds of silence. “I offered for a reason. We’re working on a school project, sure, but who’s to say that doesn't mean we can’t have some fun?”

Doyoung hesitates again, more nervous than anything. “Are you absolutely sure? You won’t get mad at me later for distracting us from the project?”

At that, Jaehyun laughs, a loud sound that rings pleasantly in Doyoung’s ears. “Trust me, the last thing I’ll ever do is get upset that we didn't do our homework. I’m always looking for a distraction,” he gets up then, holding out a hand for Doyoung to take, and he does, albeit reluctantly, not seeing the need and knowing he could easily get up on his own. “And by the way, you don’t need to borrow any clothes from me to swim, just swim in your underwear,” he winks, turning around and leading Doyoung out of the living room, ignoring all of the confused sounds coming out of his mouth as he blindly follows the other.

-

“Well,” Johnny announces, neck a little pink at the thought of displaying his shitty apartment to Taeyong, “this is the place.”

Taeyong steps inside after Johnny, a little hesitant, but mostly curious, looking around openly and without any outward disgust, which Johnny is thankful for. The last thing he needs is Taeyong turning his nose up at Johnny’s home, making him out to be a fool or poor or something else (even if Johnny is both and proud of it).

“It’s nice,” Taeyong says, and, to his credit, it doesn't sound like much of a lie. Johnny knows he must be good at disguising his true feelings in his words. 

At Johnny’s doubtful look, Taeyong straightens up, eyes wide and stance a bit defensive. “It is, I swear! I wouldn't lie to you! I like the place, do you live here by yourself?”

“Nope!” Ten says, announcing his presence as he strolls out of the kitchen space, holding a glass of wine. “Johnny, didn't we used to have a policy about guests? Why didn't I receive some notice?”

Taeyong blushes a little. “Oh, should we go? I didn't realize I was intruding—“

“You’re not,” Johnny interrupts bluntly, “he’s kidding, but he isn't funny,” he amends, shooting Ten an unimpressed glare.

Ten smirks. “Ouch,” he grumbles, rubbing his arm playfully. “A little harsh, don't you think, baby?”

Johnny cringes at the term of endearment, knowing Taeyong’s going to pick up on it and make assumptions that are probably wrong which, based on his expression, he most certainly has already.

“Taeyong,” Johnny rushes to save face, “this is my good _friend _and roommate Ten. Ten, this is Taeyong, from school.”  


“I knew he must be,” Ten remarks, looking Taeyong over with an interest in his eyes that has Johnny’s blood boiling and stomach curling in on itself. “What, being as pretty and put together as he is. No one who looks like this could ever be poor, “ Ten explains, as if Taeyong isn't even in the room.

Johnny rolls his eyes, placing a gentle hand on Taeyong’s back to guide him towards the couch, the fabric of it tattered and filled with moth bites.

“So if Ten is done being a dick, we can get started on the project,” Johnny says loudly, glaring at Ten over Taeyong’s shoulder, who’s still too shaken to reply to Ten’s revealing comment.

Ten’s eyes gleam evilly as he looks at Johnny, a warm smile on his face despite it, letting Johnny know that he’s only giving him a difficult time. Still and yet, Johnny sticks out his tongue childishly, praying internally for Ten to get the message and leave, either slithering back to their shared bedroom, or the entire apartment in general. Johnny isn't picky.

“Okay, okay,” Ten finally concedes, eyebrows raised and a false hurt expression on his face, “I can tell when I’m not wanted,” he says dramatically, glancing back over his shoulder at Taeyong and Johnny. Johnny winds up, ready to punch Ten in the face before the latter winks at Taeyong one last time and leave, grabbing his keys and exiting the apartment.

Johnny exhales, relief flooding his body, and he turns back towards Taeyong, a large grin on his face now that they’re alone. 

He’s confused when he sees a small frown on Taeyong’s lips.

“Sorry about him,” Johnny says, trying to switch around Taeyong’s apparent bad mood. “He likes to joke around a lot, but he's got a specific brand of humor that doesn't work for everybody.”

Taeyong hums, sitting back on the couch, not caring how ratty the texture is and how uncomfortable it must be compared to the nice suede Johnny was sitting on earlier at Taeyong’s house—or mansion, he should say.

“So how long have you two been together?” Taeyong asks, sounding innocent enough.

Johnny’s eyes widen. “What?” he asks. “No, no way! We aren't together, oh my god,” Johnny laughs now, but it sounds very forced and fake, a wheezing laugh that he shouldn't have put too much effort into.

“He called you baby, though,” Taeyong asks, looking confused now.

_Fuck_, Johnny thinks, _I knew that was gonna come back to bite me later_.

“Ten’s just like that,” Johnny explains, “really affectionate, probably too much, ad he calls all his friends baby. Trust me. We aren't together.”  


Taeyong hums again, looking contemplative as he looks around once more. “Is it just you guys here?” he asks. “Where are your parents?”

Johnny winces, looking down at his hands, bringing them together and wringing them tightly, like he's trying to get the wrinkles on his palms out, those natural ones that have been there since he was born. “Um,” he stalls, drawing the syllable out for as long as possible. “You don't know me _that_ well yet,” he laughs again, this time very uncomfortable and unnatural.

“Oh,” Taeyong responds softly, and when Johnny looks up he sees his eyes have gotten huge, “we don't need to talk about it. I’m sorry if I brought it up when I shouldn't have.”

Johnny shrugs. “Don’t worry about it,” he says casually, brushing it off, “should we start though? We lost some time with the relocation. Do you have somewhere you need to be later?”

Taeyong grins then, skin crinkling around his eyes and making him look years younger than when he's straight-faced. “Nope,” he proclaims proudly, “I got nothing but time.”

-

Sicheng and Taeil have all their stuff laid out in Sicheng’s apartment, his parents gone for the week. So far, there’s been little talking, Sicheng having prepared a questionnaire for them to both fill out to minimize the interview process. Taeil thinks it’s to avoid having to actually speak to each other, as if Sicheng’s still embarrassed about what happened in the locker room.

If Taeil’s being honest, the locker room terrified him. How easily Yuta controlled the situation and how casual he was about Taeil walking in and seeing him and his boyfriend both in a vulnerable state. It terrified Taeil how into it he was, watching Sicheng at Yuta’s will, nearly unable to move or do anything for himself without Yuta authorizing it first. Seeing Yuta in that position of power over Sicheng absolutely wrecked Taeil inside, which confused him even more.

Because if Taeil was turned on by the locker room situation, or the idea of watching people in general, then that means something completely different than just being turned on by the idea of his dick being sucked instead of Yuta’s. At first, Taeil lead himself to believe that the reason he got hard so quickly was because he wanted it to be him instead of Yuta that Sicheng was sucking off. Instead, Taeil’s starting to think he just liked the idea of observing, of looking but not being able to touch, of being under Yuta’s spell and Yuta’s control during the entire exchange.

“Are you finished?” Sicheng asks, breaking Taeil out of his spell.

Taeil smiles. “Yeah, are you?” Sicheng nods. “Cool.”  


And here’s the awkward silence again, Sicheng and Taeil just blankly staring at each other, waiting for the other to initiate some semblance of a conversation, both trying to figure out a way around the uncomfortable situation they were both in yesterday.

“So—“ they both say at the same time, leading Sicheng to laugh uncomfortably and Taeil to look at the ground, smiling with his mouth closed, lips drawn tight.

“Look,” Sicheng sighs, “I know we said to just forget about the locker room, but it’s clearly keeping us from properly talking to each other, so I don't really know what to do anymore. I don't really wanna talk about it. Do you?”  


Taeil blanches at being put on the spot. “Not…particularly,” he says awkwardly.

Sicheng blushes a little, looking down quickly before looking back up, a newly determined frown on his face. “Okay, so let’s swap questionnaires and ask each other any follow up questions we might have for each other. Let’s really talk and actually get to know each other instead of dancing around each other.

“Okay,” Taeil says quietly, handing over his paper when prompted, taking Sicheng’s when he holds his own out.

Looking over Sicheng’s answers, mostly everything has been explained well enough, his childhood, how his house normally functions, his favorite hobbies and things to do, watch and read. He was very detailed, probably at the time of filling it out thinking that he wanted to avoid talking to Taeil as much as possible about his life, instead simply explaining everything perfectly the first time around.

When he looks up, Sicheng looks like he has some questions, but before he can say anything, the door to his apartment his opening, and Yuta is barging in, all smirks and struts as he flings the door shut behind him, letting it slam closed.

Sicheng flinches at the loud noise, looking over and seeing Yuta, quickly schooling his expression to a fond grin afterwards. “I didn't know you were coming over today!” he chirps. “I thought you were gonna work on the project too?”  


Yuta scoffs, reaching Sicheng and Taeil and bending down to claim Sicheng’s lips. Taeil can see Yuta’s down in Sicheng’s throat, and he feels himself getting hot already, squirming uncomfortably in his spot on the couch.

“Jungwoo and I don’t need to meet up to work on that shit. We know each other perfectly well, he's my best friend.” Taeil thinks about how much of a bitch Jungwoo was to his friends, and it checks out. “Besides, I didn't see much of you today, and I certainly didn't see a lot of Taeil over here,” Yuta’s sharp eyes turn towards Taeil, cutting into him and sending shivers down his spine. “How are you, man?”

Taeil swallows loudly. “I-I’m doing just fine,” he answers shakily.

Yuta hums. “Did you miss me like I missed you? You left so suddenly in the locker room. One second you were there, the next you had disappeared. Did we do something to offend you?"

Taeil watches as Sicheng flushes in shame, head bent into the crook of Yuta’s neck, and tries to diffuse the situation as much as possible.

“I was late already,” Taeil responds carefully, “to gym, that is. I needed to get going, first day and all. You understand, right?”

Yuta stares for awhile, Taeil wanting to shrink in on himself under the weight of his gaze. After a little bit, however, Yuta finally chuckles, turning back towards Sicheng, nuzzling his neck before kissing there delicately, Sicheng shivering next to him. “Of course I understand, Taeil,” he says into Sicheng’s skin, Sicheng’s eyes rolling back into his head at the feeling, tugging Yuta’s hair to bring him closer to him, molding their bodies together.

Taeil, growing increasingly uncomfortable once again, looks around for an escape option. He could go to the bathroom and hope they finish while he’s in there, or the worst could happen and they could be in the same position as the locker room when he gets back. It seems his only option is to just leave the apartment and walk to a bus stop, hoping there’s one close enough so that he doesn't have to walk too far.

“Um,” Taeil starts, looking back at Sicheng and Yuta, “I think I’m gonna go—“  


The sight before him cuts him off before he can finish his own sentence. Yuta has Sicheng’s shirt halfway up his body, almost over his head at this point, mouth attached to his nipple. Sicheng’s sprawled out against the couch, moving his hips against Yuta as he seeks out friction, holding Yuta close to him so that he can’t detach himself. On a particularly hard suck, Sicheng moans, throwing his head back and to the side, eyes opening slightly, and that’s when he seems to remember that Taeil’s still in the room.

“Oh, Taeil!” Sicheng shouts, scrambling, trying to get out from under Yuta, to no avail, as his boyfriend as him pinned, “I’m so sorry! I didn't mean to! Please forgive me! I’m so sorry!”

Sicheng wiggles like a maniac, trying to unlatch Yuta from his body, even though Yuta’s arms are wrapped around him like a vice at this point, too tight a grip to release properly. Sicheng whines at being stuck, and he shoots Taeil a pleading look, making Taeil feel a little bad.

“I mean, it’s a weird but—“  


Yuta releases Sicheng’s skin from his mouth with a loud, wet pop, lips red and swollen from the ministrations. “Oh, Taeil doesn't mind at all,” he says lowly, seductively, sitting up so he can push Sicheng down completely, laying him sideways on the couch, head almost in Taeil’s lap. “Does he?”

Yuta looks up at Taeil then, knowing smirk on his face, and everything falls into place. Yuta came here on purpose, knowing he and Sicheng were partnered for the project, knowing he could get the two of them alone here, as Sicheng’s parents have been gone for awhile. 

“You—“ Taeil stutters, face flaming as he looks at the scene in front of him.

“We?” Yuta prompts smugly, leaning down to attach himself to Sicheng’s neck, sucking like a vampire. The squeal Sicheng lets out it delicious, and Taeil finds himself growing stiff in his pants, too tight to be able to conceal it, and he curses himself for letting himself react this way again. “Face it, Taeil. You liked the show we put on in the locker room. You loved it, in fact, and you wanted more. You fled because you were embarrassed, embarrassed that we managed to wreck you so completely without even doing anything. You crave more, I can tell.”

Sicheng moans as Yuta’s hands travel to his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them, standing up temporarily so he can remove them from Sicheng entirely, sitting back down between his legs and cupping Sicheng’s cock through his briefs, and Taeil can see how hard Sicheng is.

“Now, I’m gonna fuck my boyfriend,” Yuta announces, Sicheng moaning loudly at the commandment, “right here on this couch. You can either stay or go as I do it. What’ll it be, Taeil?”

Whimpering, Sicheng leans up to try and steal a kiss, whining once more when Yuta denies him, moving his hand quickly over Sicheng’s cock instead. 

Taeil’s ears are ringing, his body frozen still, and he's internally hitting himself for even debating what to do. The obvious choice would be to leave, to get the hell out and never look back, never speak to either of them again, get a new partner for the project and a new seat in his other class. And yet…

“Stay,” Sicheng breathes out, turning his head to the side, cheeks flushed and lips pouted, eyes barely open and glazed over with lust. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please stay,” he says, almost delirious at the thought.

Yuta looks up again, a knowing glint in his eyes, and maybe he knows that, even this early on, Taeil can’t deny Sicheng a thing. Maybe he knows that because he can’t deny him a thing either.

“I-I’ll stay,” Taeil says, completely unconfident.

As Yuta descends over Sicheng’s body, it’s hard to tell whether Taeil’s made the best or worst mistake of his life.

-

Water ripples around Doyoung’s feet as he splashes it around, smiling happily at the feeling of cool, refreshing water hitting at least part of his skin, careful not to get it on his jeans. 

“Aren’t you coming in? I thought you loved swimming?” Jaehyun shouts from the other side of the pool, hair wet and plastered to his face, smiling wide. He’s just in his underwear, and Doyoung refuses to strip down as well, so he opted to stay on the other side of the pool to just watch and enjoy the cooling sensation.

Doyoung shakes his head. “I’m not undressing. I’m fine over here.”  


Jaehyun scoffs, dipping back underwater and reappearing towards the middle of the pool, a new smirk on his face, knowing and playful.

“I guess you don’t need to get undressed to swim,” Jaehyun says, peering up at Doyoung through clumped eyelashes.

“…What’s that supposed to mean?” Doyoung asks, wary.

Jaehyun laughs, splashing water around him as he swims closer to Doyoung, getting some on Doyoung’s face, which he wipes away quickly. 

“Jaehyun, what—!”

Doyoung is tugged into the water, hitting the pool’s surface from the side. The sensation stings a little bit, but not enough to displace him entirely. When he resurfaces, he coughs up water, his nose on fire as he inhaled too much water while he was under. Jaehyun’s next to him, dazzling smile showing off perfect teeth and crinkles around his eyes. 

Already uncomfortable and feeling his completely soaked clothes sticking to his body, Doyoung cringes. “Why’d you do that?” he screeches, half angry and half desperate, wanting to get out and dry off.

Jaehyun grabs his wrist as he tries to leave, a pleading look in his eyes, despite the smile still lingering on his face. “Doyoung, wait, I’m sorry! I just wanted you to have a little bit of fun! You seem so serious all the time, I was just trying to loosen you up, get to know you better. You know, for the assignment.”

Doyoung hesitates, peering at Jaehyun thoughtfully. He’s standing next to Doyoung with wide, guilty eyes, crouching down so his entire body is submerged underwater, his head poking out the top, chin half under. 

“I’m sorry, Doyoung,” Jaehyun tries again, this time a little more desperate. “I can get you a change of clothes if you want. Just don’t go, I’m sorry.”  


Sighing, Doyoung hangs his head and crouches down as well, leaving his head above water as he gazes at Jaehyun. “I suppose I could stay for a little while longer—mmph!”

Doyoung’s interrupted as Jaehyun surges forward, connecting their lips together in a sloppy, wet kiss. Immediately, Doyoung pulls back, eyebrows furrowed and frown set deep in his face.

“What are you doing?” Doyoung asks quietly. “Are you trying to ruin everything?”

Jaehyun frowns. “No,” he replies, a little disappointed. “Sorry.”  


Doyoung scoffs. “I think I better go,” he says ruefully, swerving towards the steps on the pool, cringing at the feeling of water running underneath his clothes as he stands. “Don’t try to stop me this time.”  


As he’s walking away, Doyoung hears Jaehyun splashing water in the pool still, and a loud “fuck!” but he keeps walking, grabbing his stuff and marching out the front door.

-

Johnny and Taeyong are in Johnny’s bedroom, Johnny on his bed and Taeyong standing over him, looking around at the shelves and shelves of crap around his room. 

“You and Ten share this room?” Taeyong asks, peering curiously over his shoulder at Johnny.

Johnny nods, trying not to seem too self-conscious as Taeyong pilfers through his things, eyes wide and completely free of judgement. Johnny’s waiting for the latter to change, as it usually does.

“Yeah,” Johnny says shortly, “not much space in the apartment for us to both have our own space. Unless one of us slept on the couch or something.”  


Taeyong smiles, but it’s small and not really genuine. Johnny curses and lays back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, crumbling and falling apart from mold and age and every other problem imaginable.

“Hey,” Taeyong says softly, “I think you’re apartment’s really nice.”

Johnny feels a dip in the bed and he looks over to see Taeyong sitting next to him, gazing down at him with fond, soft eyes.

“You can say that all you want,” Johnny scoffs. “You still get to go home to the giant mansion we were in earlier.”  


Taeyong grimaces and nods. “It’s true, I live in a huge ass mansion that has too many rooms that don't have purposes. My entire life is ridiculous. You don’t have to tell me that, I know. My brother’s the delusional one, not me. Trust me.”

“Your brother,” Johnny muses, “you two don’t look a lot alike. And doesn't he have a different last name?”

“Adopted,” Taeyong confirms, “he is anyway. Not me. I’m the biological child they couldn't stand so they had to replace me with a moldable child they could fit into their idea of the perfect rich kid.”

Johnny raises his eyebrows, blowing air out of his mouth. “Wow,” he replies slyly, “I didn't think I would get all that backstory from just one simple question. You've barely told me anything the entire time you've been here.”  


“Maybe you just weren't asking the right questions,” Taeyong smirks, eyes sparkling.

Laughing, Johnny turns over towards where his notebook is lying. “Maybe,” he says quietly, fiddling with the pen sitting there.

After a few seconds of silence, Johnny hears Taeyong suck in a breath. “Johnny,” Taeyong says quietly, tone vulnerable, and when Johnny looks over, he’s looking down at him with soft, wet eyes. 

Johnny sits up slowly. “What is it?” he asks openly.

Taeyong huffs, looking around the room once more, a sad smile on his face. “I know what you must think of me, okay?” he says certainly. “I know because I’ve heard it all, from people like you and not like you at all. I’m a selfish, stupid rich boy. I should stop taking everything for granted. I should just suck it up because my life is perfect and I have nothing to complain about. I’ve heard it all, okay? I just…” he pauses, taking in several deep, quivering breaths. “I don’t want you to think any of those things, alright? Maybe I am selfish. Maybe I do take everything I have for granted. Maybe I should stop talking shit about my perfect brother and perfect family and perfect house and perfect school. But I can’t help it. I can’t help the way I feel.”  


“How do you feel?” Johnny asks, scooting a little closer to Taeyong, their knees touching now.

“Trapped,” Taeyong whispers. “I feel trapped. Stuck. Something, I don’t know. I don’t want to feel this way. I wish I didn’t.”

Taeyong looks up at Johnny through his lashes, tears running down his cheeks now, a flush to his cheeks, probably from all the sharing.

“I wish I could just disappear,” Taeyong admits desperately.

-

“Why do you think I brought you in today?” the inspector asks, crisp and unattached.

Johnny shrugs. “You think I had something to do with it.”

“You were in the room,” the inspector states, “at the direct scene of the crime. Standing right there, right over the body. What else am I supposed to think?”

“That I’m shit out of luck,” Johnny sighs, running a hand over an exhausted expression. “I walked into the wrong place at the wrong time. Or does that only happen to the rich people? I noticed there’s only three people here being questioned.”

The inspector huffs, eyes flitting to the door of the interrogation room. “We’re covering our bases,” the inspector says, turning up a nose at Johnny. “After you, Mr. Moon and Mr. Kim are questioned in full, we’ll bring in other students to corroborate details and provide more firsthand accounts.”  


Johnny rolls his eyes. “Uh huh,” he replies, scoffing. “So the poor kids who can’t afford lawyers are gonna be the ‘bases’, as you said? Not _one_ other person in that school is worth talking to before you talk to us? Are you really that easy to buy?”

The inspector sets down the notepad in their hands, looking up at Johnny with cold, serious eyes. “If I were you, Mr. Seo, I would cooperate to the best of my abilities.”  


“And why is that?” Johnny asks rudely, looking down his nose.

The inspector barely hides their smirk. “Because you’re a suspect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wOnDeR wHoSe mUrDeR tHeYrE iNvEsTiGaTiNg


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a rly long chapter to make up for this update being late!! part four coming soon :))
> 
> also there's a trigger warning in this chapter just to be safe. later on in the chapter, after doyoung and jaehyun's scene at the party, there's a scene involving sex under the influence/mildly dubious consent. pls be careful and make sure you know your limits so you don't put yourselves in danger. stay safe everyone!!
> 
> now onto the chapter:::

part three.

“A suspect?” Doyoung laughs, sitting back in the uncomfortable chair, letting his eyebrows raise into his hairline. “Johnny? Really?”

The inspector scowls. “That’s the direction our investigation is taking, yes. Why, is there something you’d like to add? Someone you think we should redirect our efforts towards?”

“Um, _yes_!” Doyoung all but screams in the inspector’s face, carefully schooling his expression when he sees their eye twitch. “You should be investigating everyone in that godforsaken school! They’re all hiding something, every single one of them! You think just because they’re rich and we’re not that _we_ had something to do with it? No way in hell can I let that slide.”

“Mr. Kim,” the inspector replies, voice placating and passive. “Just because you might have some grudges against a few classmates does not provide enough evidence to steer our investigation towards the school—“

Doyoung scoffs, interrupting the inspector. “Right,” he says derisively, “how about the fact that the murder happened _on campus_, during a _dance_, where nearly every student was _present_. I highly doubt that, if you fact-checked the accounts of every student at that school, they would be properly accounted for during the time of the murder. Unlike myself, Taeil and Johnny, who _all_ have credible alibis.”

“I think you should stop trying to tell me how to run my own investigation, Mr. Kim,” the inspector warns, lip quivering dangerously.

“And I think you should stop treating me as if I’m guilty just because I don’t have the money to buy you off,” Doyoung says calmly. “Are we finished?”

The inspector observes Doyoung for around a minute, saying nothing and shuffling papers in their hands uselessly. After awhile, they finally concede.

“Yes, I believe we are.”

-

“I’m throwing a party,” Johnny declares, dropping his backpack on the table unceremoniously.

Doyoung scowls as his papers fly everywhere, looking up at Johnny with murder in his eyes. “I’ll get you for that,” he promises, muttering expletives as he gathers up all his things to re-organize them to how they were before.

Johnny shrugs, sitting down next to him and looking at the two expectantly.

“A party?” Taeil asks when it becomes clear Doyoung shows no interest in elaborating.

“Yes!” Johnny exclaims, happy to be indulged. “And I’m inviting a bunch of kids from school.”  


Doyoung looks up once more, eyebrow raised. “_This_ school?” he asks snidely. “Are you on something? Whose gonna show up?”  


Johnny’s smile deepens. “Taeyong would,” he says happily, “if enough other people showed up, that is.”  


“_Ah_,” Doyoung hums, nodding to himself and returning his gaze to his work. “So that’s what this is about. Johnny still wants to get with Taeyong so he’s gonna ignore the fact that he said some low-key freaky, suicidal stuff to him when he was over at his apartment.”

“It wasn't suicidal,” Johnny frowns, turning to Taeil. “Can I guarantee your presence at my apartment this Saturday night?” 

Taeil looks from Johnny to Doyoung, amused. “Of course you can. You know I’m always down for a Johnny Seo party.”

Johnny whoops in excitement, standing up again and grabbing his bag, displacing Doyoung’s things for the second time. The offended party huffs and glares whole-heartedly at Johnny now, every bit or venom and malice possible in his eyes. “Excellent!” Johnny proclaims, ignoring Doyoung’s murder eyes in favor of coming around the other side of the table and kissing the top of Taeil’s head. “It’s gonna be great, Taeil! See you there, Doyoung!”

As Johnny prances away, Doyoung looks back at Taeil, still angry. “I never said I would go.”  


Taeil laughs and shakes his head, looking down at his own work.

-

As Doyoung places books in his locker, replacing them with the ones he needs later in the day, he feels a presence beside him. They don't say anything, but he knows—just has a _feeling_ that it isn't Taeil looking to make plans for the weekend or Johnny coming to borrow his homework at the last minute.

“Are you gonna avoid me forever now?” a deep voice asks.

Doyoung sighs and turns around, facing Jaehyun head on. “No, I’m not. We have a project to finish, and we’ll finish it. But I’m not going to talk to you for any other reason than that.”  


Jaehyun has the good grace to look ashamed, fiddling his fingers together and looking down at his shoes—nice and expensive, Doyoung notes ruefully.

“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry for you to move on and forget it ever happened?” Jaehyun asks, pleading.

Doyoung scoffs, looking back at his locker, slamming it shut with full force. “I don’t know. How many other people have you kissed without consent? You have a boyfriend, for fuck’s sake, and you’re making me out to be an idiot, kissing me in the pool like that. I didn't ask for it, and I certainly didn't _want_ it. No, what I actually want is for you to leave me alone, so how about you go and do that, hm?”

Before Jaehyun can get in another word, Doyoung’s walking away, a fresh wave of anger rolling off of him.

-

“You hear about my party?” Johnny asks Taeyong in class while the teacher is busy handing back graded tests. “My apartment Saturday night, I think nearly the whole school’s planning on making an appearance.”  


Taeyong smiles. “Like they don't have anything better to do. They’re probably jumping at the opportunity to see how the poor party,” he replies, teasing.

Johnny brushes off the comment, leaning backwards and resting his arm around the back of Taeyong’s chair, looking at him fully. “You planning on stopping by? You already know the address.”  


Taeyong looks over at Johnny with a playful expression, then leans back in his own chair, brushing himself against Johnny’s arm, a move he knows can’t have been on accident.

“I don’t know,” Taeyong admits mysteriously, “we’ll see.”

Johnny hums, smiling widely, satisfied with the vague response.

Across the room, Taeil and Sicheng sit beside each other, terrified of being the first to say something to the other. Taeil sees Yuta sitting a few rows up next to Jungwoo, and he keeps periodically glancing back at Taeil and Sicheng together, smirking and licking his lips teasingly before turning back around, carrying on his conversation with Jungwoo.

After Yuta does it for the fourth time, Sicheng shifts uncomfortably in his chair, facing down at the desk, and sighs. “Sorry about him,” he mutters, shame coloring his tone.

Taeil looks over at Sicheng, knowing exactly what he's talking about. “No,” he replies evenly, “don’t worry about it. He’s just messing with me.”  


Sicheng sighs again. “He’s messing with _me_,” he spits, pouting, and Taeil can’t help but to want to kiss it away, straightening up and clearing his head when he realizes those are the kinds of thoughts he's having.

To say Taeil is confused once more would certainly be an understatement this time around. Watching Sicheng blow Yuta was one thing, he was an observer, and while Yuta brought him into it once he realized he was watching, it wasn't the same as at Sicheng’s apartment. Taeil sat on the couch next to the couple as Yuta fucked Sicheng, making him come over and over again, and Taeil was a part of the experience from the very beginning.

And even through all of that, the most terrifying part about it was his growing desire to experience it again.

“Why do you think that?” Taeil asks carefully.

Sicheng finally looks up at Taeil, a little moisture in his eyes. “Because he's my boyfriend, and I know how he works. He’s messing with my head on purpose, getting me all confused inside about what I want from him, from you—“ Sicheng cuts himself off, covering his mouth with wide eyes from his admission.

“Oh,” Taeil says stupidly, looking forward and seeing Yuta gazing on them once more, lip between his teeth as he surveys the two having a conversation. “W-what would you…want from me?” he asks, treading lightly.

“I think you know what, Taeil,” Sicheng scoffs. “You’d be an idiot not to.”  
  
“Pretend that I am,” Taeil reasons, looking Sicheng straight in the eyes. “What do you two _want_ from me?”

Papers slam on their table, causing the two to break apart and look up at their teacher sheepishly, each of them grabbing their own papers, ignoring the electric shock that happens when their hands touch rifling through the packets.

Doyoung’s test lands in front of him with a soft thud, the teacher murmuring a subtle “excellent work” as she passes. Doyoung’s carefully neutral expression that he schools in front of Jaehyun turns into a pleasant smile as he looks at his grade—a perfect score.

“Well done, Doyoung,” Jaehyun whispers beside him, looking at him too softly for Doyoung to be comfortable. He merely nods politely and turns back to his test, reading the instructor comments scribbled in the margins of his packet.

“My, my,” an even, cruel voice from behind Doyoung startles him, causing him to jump and turn around, “a perfect score? A fine achievement.”  


Doyoung rolls his eyes and turns back around. “Go away, Jungwoo.”

Jungwoo pretends to simper, sucking his teeth before he answers. “Can’t. I wanna talk to my boyfriend. Jae, come with me, please?” These words are so sweet compared to the cutting ones he throws at Doyoung on a regular basis, but when Doyoung turns back around, his eyes are fierce, clouded with barely disguised fury, lip curled upward.

With one last look at Doyoung, Jaehyun slides out of his chair. “Of course, baby.” And the bell’s ringing before Doyoung can make a snide comment on Jaehyun and Jungwoo’s behalf.

On his way out, Doyoung notices a paper left on a table, and when he walks past it, he realizes it’s Jungwoo’s test, recklessly left face up, large, red letters burning bright for anyone to come and see.

Doyoung got a perfect score. Jungwoo hardly managed a passing grade.

-

Saturday approaches quickly, Ten providing the necessary provisions for a party like the one Johnny describes to him—a killer playlist, cheap LED lights from Amazon that ship in three days time, and a hell of a lot of booze.   


“There may be some other…side stuff thrown in there,” Ten reveals with a secretive wink, holding up some dime sized baggies with a wicked smile on his face.

Johnny and Ten work hard on making their crappy ass apartment a presentable enough place to hold a rave, especially for a bunch of snobby, rich kids from school that would normally turn their noses up at the thought of stepping foot in the cramped living space. Johnny and Ten share a room for God’s sake—their apartment definitely isn't fancy by any means, but they manage. Johnny attaches the LED lights around the border of the wall and ceiling throughout the apartment’s living room and kitchen, which is where the majority of the party will be held. He places some on the railing of the tiny balcony they have overlooking the street and neighborhood, where Johnny and Ten sometimes sit together to drink some beer and watch knife fights and illegal street races take place.

Ten, for his part, organizes the liquor in a much more presentable way than Johnny would've ever been able to, stacking up all the extra bottles and cans that don't fit on the table and putting them in the cube-shaped laundry room they have coming off the kitchen, where he's also storing the extra ice. Stacks of solo cups are available on the kitchen counters, as well as a variety of snacks that Doyoung generously donated (for a small fee, of course) from his parents’ store. 

A larger amount of students than Johnny expected express their interest in showing up to his party throughout the week, and before he knows it, Saturday night is upon him and his apartment is stuffed with kids rich enough to buy the entire apartment complex to turn it into a manufacturing plant for their parents’ businesses.

“This place is like a fucking sardine can!” Ten yells in Johnny’s face when they meet up in the kitchen, both looking for a refill. Ten is completely plastered, whereas Johnny’s only slightly buzzed, wanting to be alert and aware should anything happen.

“I know!” Johnny shouts back, taking into account the booming bass-filled music being blasted throughout the apartment through multiple speakers Taeil provided earlier. “I’m kinda nervous about more people showing up! I think we’re at capacity, but I hate the idea of turning people away!”

Ten scrunches his eyebrows together, a sign of confusion. “Huh?” he screams.

Johnny laughs, watching his friend sway back and forth on his feet. “Nothing,” he chuckles, “never mind.”  


“Oh!” Ten says, too loud and too slurred. “Okay!”

Watching Ten stumble away, Johnny goes to refill his solo cup, filling it halfway with the cheap rum Ten stole from the closest ABC. He looks around for the Coke cans he knows are lying around somewhere when someone taps on his shoulder intently, unrelenting until Johnny turns around.

“Taeyong!” Johnny announces cheerfully, looking at his beautiful classmate. “You came!” 

Looking particularly sheepish with his head partially bowed, Taeyong nods. “That I did. I didn't think I would, but hearing everyone talk about it at school yesterday got me…looking forward to it, I guess.”

The answer doesn't necessarily sound like the truth, but Johnny lets it slide, because he’s surprised Taeyong even bothered to show up in the first place. It’s been difficult to get a read on him, and Johnny’s fast-growing crush on him certainly hasn't been helping matters. As Johnny wants to get to know Taeyong more, the more mysterious Taeyong seems to get. There’s so much about him he doesn't know—why he showed up to the party being the latest example—but Johnny’s determined to get to know him more.

“I think I see Sicheng,” Taeyong says suddenly, interrupting Johnny’s thoughts and leaving him a little lost ad confused. “I’m gonna go see how he’s doing.”

Johnny blinks. “Uh, okay?” he says uncertainly. He’d sort of been hoping Taeyong would want to stick around with Johnny for a bit longer, maybe talk to him a bit so that Johnny can pry into his brain for more information on him as a person. “Catch up with you later?”

Taeyong nods slowly, eyes darting around to look at everything but Johnny. He walks away then, without saying anything else, leaving Johnny standing in the kitchen alone.

Without giving it much thought, Johnny raises his cup and slams back the contents, ignoring the fact that there isn't any Coke in his cup.

-

Taeil’s shoes scuff against the uneven gravel as he walks to Doyoung’s parents’ store. Earlier that day, Doyoung had texted and said he couldn't make it to the party after all, saying he had to study. Taeil, knowing his friend, figures the reason is more related to his parents and not wanting to ask to go out, so Taeil decides he's going to the dirty work for his friend, approaching the store confidently while modestly dressed.

When he's in front of the door, constructed with a large glass panel in lieu of wood, Taeil knocks, quick and steady, waiting with a patient smile on his face for someone to come to the door.

He discovers he's guessed correctly when Doyoung, wearing an apron with the store’s logo embroidered on it, makes his way towards the door, eyebrows drawing together when he realizes it’s Taeil at the door.

Doyoung opens the door a crack, sticking his head out and speaking cautiously. “Why are you here? I told you I don’t need you to pick me up anymore.”

“I know,” Taeil replies, easy smile still in place, “but I figured you wouldn't wanna be cooped up here all night, so I’ve come to rescue you.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes, stepping outside fully now. “I don't need to be ‘rescued’,” he retorts indignantly. “I want to stay here tonight. It’s better this way, you go ahead to the party though. It looks like it’s a lot of fun. Ten’s Instagram is blowing up right now.”

Taeil persists, not wanting to show up empty-handed after implying to Johnny that he would be bringing along their third musketeer. “I think you can step away from the store for one night, don't you think? C’mon, let’s go, I’ll explain to your parents why—“

“Who’s at the door, Doyoung?” a sharp voice asks from back in the store.

Doyoung noticeably pales, automatically shuffling himself to stand a little closer to Taeil, somewhat blocking him from his father’s view as he lumbers into the doorframe, six feet tall and very imposing, especially to Taeil, whose always been considered short next to someone like him or Johnny.

“Me!” Taeil replies cheerfully, putting on his most dazzling smile as he sidesteps Doyoung to speak to his friend’s father directly. “I’m here to pick up Doyoung, sir.”

His father raises an eyebrow, very similar to how his son does at times. “So late?” he asks, as if he’s trying to catch them in a lie. “And where would you be going?”

Taeil straightens his back, fixing his posture and putting on a face of innocence now. “Johnny’s,” he answers honestly, “we’re having a last minute cram session,” he explains less honestly, “last minute test, you get it, right?”

Doyoung clears his throat behind Taeil and moves to stand beside him, eyes pleading. “Can I go?” he asks quietly, and Taeil knows the two well enough to avert his gaze now and allow the two to work out the details, his part of the exchange over.

“Why didn't you mention this earlier, Doyoung? Who is supposed to watch the store now?” his father asks sternly, arms crossed.

Doyoung bites back a simper, instead shifting his gaze to Taeil for a final surge of confidence before he burns out. “I’m sorry, I forgot to bring it up at dinner. I’ve been all over the place lately, juggling the store and my new workload at school. But I’m getting better! I promise! The store isn't supposed to be too busy tonight, would you mind watching it while I’m gone? We close in an hour or so as it is.”

There is a long, uncomfortable silence in which Taeil’s not entirely sure which way Doyoung’s father will swing—allow his son to go out so late to study, or force him to stay home and watch the family store he’s expected to take over in his adulthood—but he stands strong next to Doyoung regardless, not letting his friend face the awkward silence by himself.

“I’ll allow it,” his father finally concedes, the rush of breath that leaves Doyoung almost knocks him over in its strength. “Study hard, don’t get distracted. Come back at a reasonable hour.”  


“Of course,” Doyoung answers quickly, already untying his apron, gathering the fabric in his hands to give off to his father before he leaves.

Taeil winces. “Actually,” he raises a hand, gaining both of the Kims’ attention. “Doyoung and I might stay the night there—it’s a really big exam. We need to make sure we’re ready, but we don’t wanna disturb you if we come back too late. Is that okay, sir?”

Doyoung’s father narrows his eyes, gaze shifting back and forth between the friends, before he nods curtly, snatching the apron out of his son’s hands and stomping inside, slamming the door shut behind him and walking back to the back of the store.

Doyoung breathes in and out, slow and steady, as he looks over at Taeil. “You’re crazy,” he breathes, eyes blown wide as he stares at his friend. “Actually certifiable.”  


“I do my best,” Taeil grins, throwing an arm around Doyoung. “C’mon, I just guaranteed you a weekend away from the store. Time to get you drunk off your ass!”

-

Johnny’s frustration with his current predicament is exponential, his anger mounting the more time passes. 

With the arrival of Taeil and Doyoung, Johnny had thought his night would start to get better, his two friends there to make everything more fun, there to cheer him on as he chugged his sixth (or seventh?) bottle of beer that evening. Instead, Taeil had been immediately swept away by Yuta and Sicheng, the former with an almost evil glint in his eyes, the latter just looking stressed. Doyoung had absolutely no interest in drinking, no matter how hard Johnny tried to get him into it, and had gone to sit on the couch sullenly sipping some fruit punch that hadn't managed to be spiked.

And so Johnny finds himself alone once more, standing on uneven feet in the kitchen as he downs drink after drink, his vision getting hazier and hazier as the hours pass by. 

Eventually, he gets to the point of no return—stumbling throughout his house with clouded eyes and indecipherable shouts as he passes by classmates he does or doesn't recognize, trying to bob his head along to the songs playing but making himself dizzy or nauseous in the process. 

Hours pass like minutes, everything happening so quickly and blending together like a large stain on the night, and eventually Johnny’s leaning over the kitchen sink, inhaling the cleaning chemicals he doused the sink with before the party and wishing he were somewhere else.

“Johnny?” Taeyong says, but it sounds so distant on Johnny’s drunken ears. “Johnny, are you okay?!”

Grumbling, Johnny rolls over so that he's leaning against the counter on his back, taking in Taeyong’s appearance and cursing himself once again for letting him walk away and mingle—especially when the party was just to get to know him better.

“I’m gonna take you back to your room,” Taeyong says firmly, grabbing Johnny’s hands and guiding his taller body towards him carefully. “You need to sleep some of this off.”

“‘Kay,” Johnny sighs, swaying next to Taeyong as he slowly pulls him out of the kitchen and into the belly of the beast, where the party shows no sign of stopping. All around them, people are jumping around and dancing, screaming and laughing and singing along to the songs playing. “Just a little bit more,” Taeyong’s saying, steering Johnny towards where he knows Johnny and Ten’s room is.

Taeyong, with a careful hand still wrapped around Johnny, reaches out and opens the bedroom door, gasping at what he sees before he leans Johnny up against the wall.

“Yuta!” Taeyong says indignantly, “he’s almost passed out! What do you think you're _doing_ with him?” Johnny watches Taeyong’s face as he talks, thick eyebrows drawn together, pretty lips pulled into a pout. “This is Johnny’s room and he needs to sleep, that’s what the hell I’m doing in here! Get out!”

A couple minutes later, Yuta appears in the doorway, hair mussed and lips swollen, an intoxicated Taeil slung across his shoulder, head buried in his neck as he lands wet kisses there, sucking on the skin and grinning dopily. Another boy Johnny doesn't recognize follows behind them, looking properly sheepish and ashamed with hickeys spread all over his neck and chest, his shirt and hair disheveled. 

“We’ll have our fun elsewhere,” Yuta says nastily to Taeyong, cradling Taeil closer as the boy starts giggling, gnawing on Yuta’s skin with all the force he's capable of. “Buzzkill,” he mutters, grabbing Taeil’s chin and leaning in to say something in his ear that has Taeil melting, his sloppy demeanor turning even more mushy as he folds himself into Yuta’s body. The three disappear, Johnny and Taeyong staring after them. 

“Taeil’s _gone_,” Johnny snorts, laughing to himself afterwards.

Taeyong looks unimpressed. “So are _you_. Get inside.”  


The two walk into Johnny and Ten’s room, Taeyong guiding him to what must be Johnny’s bed, a twin sized bed with a nightstand at the end to extend the bed out for Johnny’s lanky figure. Johnny plops down with a loud, dramatic sigh that Taeyong doesn't feel like he should indulge, but he does anyway. “What’s wrong, Johnny?” he asks softly, carding his fingers through the other’s thick, dark hair and moving it off his sweaty forehead, smoothening it out on top of his head instead.

“Nothin’,” Johnny mumbles, “jus’ like you, is all.”

He’s slurring too much, his mouth feeling too heavy, and before he knows it, all Johnny sees is black, sleep taking over him the second his head hits his pillow.

-

Ten watches the party with narrowed eyes, wanting more than anything for everyone to just _leave _his apartment and let him sleep in peace. He saw that Taeyong boy dragging Johnny to his bedroom, slinking out a few minutes later, so he knows Johnny is doing just that. Sleeping. What a good thing to be doing right now.

No, instead Ten is supervising a bunch of high schoolers too big for their britches and high off their own drama, with nothing to entertain him but the endless supply of liquor Ten stole from the corner store downtown.

Ten didn't entirely know why Johnny was so hellbent on throwing a rage on a random weekend that bore no significance to anything, but he was supportive nonetheless, stealing the liquor and the snacks to make sure his guests were well-fed and had plenty to drink. Ten even set up lights and a speaker system around the small apartment to make it seem more like club and less like the dump he and Johnny both know their apartment is.

Ever since Ten got out, he’s been worrying about Johnny. If Johnny was mad at him for going away, if he’s okay with him being back in his life all of a sudden, and everything in between. Does Johnny still like bagels, or should he stop stealing bagels and get something else for breakfast? Does Johnny have a problem with Ten’s afternoon naps on the couch, or would he rather Ten sleep there then in the room with him?

Does Johnny just want Ten gone permanently?

The Johnny today is very similar to the Johnny Ten knows and loves (thank God), but that doesn't mean he doesn't get anything wrong at all. There’s certain quirks about Johnny that Ten hasn't latched onto yet—new ones that he hasn't been able to make sense of.

Living with Johnny again, after being away for so long, feels wrong. Like there’s something slightly off now.

Feeling nauseous, Ten steps out of the main room, the heavy bass punching its rhythm into his skull and leaving him with a building headache. Ten makes his way through the room, brushing against bodies and cringing when they try to grind back enthusiastically. Ten graduated years ago—he’s not going to waste his time on some prissy high schoolers.

Ten opens the bathroom door, letting it swing open and bang against the wall with a loud thud, without realizing someone was standing there already. The occupant jumps and clutches the sink with a tight grip, shouting a quick “shit!” before composing themselves.

“Ten, sorry,” Taeyong sighs, slumping against the counter. “I thought I locked the door.”

“Lock doesn't work,” Ten replies smoothly, leaning against the wall. “Are you crying?”

Taeyong huffs, looking at himself in the mirror, eyes widening before he dabs under his eyes, clearing away the moisture collecting there. “No!” he replies indignantly, brushing away a loose tear on his cheek before facing Ten again, cheeks flushed and eyes red-rimmed.

“Taeyong,” Ten sighs himself, moving away from the wall and closing the bathroom door behind him, shutting it firmly and leaning against the door to keep it closed. “It’s okay…you can tell me what’s wrong, I guess.”

Ignoring the incredulous look in Taeyong’s eye, Ten waits expectantly for a response. “First Johnny and now you,” Taeyong scoffs, “I’m fine, but thanks.”  


“Whatever,” Ten says, looking away, before something Taeyong said catches his attention. “Wait, what do you mean ‘first Johnny’? You don’t like him?” Ten’s habit of quickly coming to Johnny’s defense without thinking rears its ugly head, stomping on the ground with steam coming out of its ears.

Taeyong’s eyes widen, seeming to recognize the seriousness underneath Ten’s expression. “No, it’s not like that. Johnny’s great, he cares about what I have to say, cares about me. I think…” he trails off, looking sheepishly to the side, avoiding Ten’s gaze, “I think he threw this party for me. To get to know me better.”

Ah, so the party is for Taeyong. Somehow, finding this reasoning out makes much more sense than Johnny wanting to throw a party to get popular with the rich kids. For their entire lives together, Ten has known one thing about Johnny: he _hates_ entitlement, and nothing screams that more than the filthy rich brats he goes to school with now.

“You think so, huh?” Ten asks, and part of him is asking himself why he’s even bothering continuing this conversation. He remembers why he even went to the bathroom in the first place, and thinks seriously about kicking Taeyong out and getting his much needed alone time.

Taeyong looks deep in thought, eyebrows scrunched together and lips pouted cutely.

“I think…Johnny obviously likes me. A lot. I could tell from when I came over to work on our project. He listened to everything I had to say and tried to understand me, tried to think of me as someone deeper than the rich, pretty boy.”

“Who are you?” Ten blurts out, shocked at himself afterwards.

Taeyong looks at Ten, weary. Ten understands why he's hesitant to answer, so he waits patiently, for some reason hoping Taeyong chooses to open up to him.

“Well…I’m kind of an outsider. I know it’s cheesy, but I don’t really fit in with the rich lifestyle my family does or everyone else at my school. I always feel like I’m sitting on a balcony looking down at everyone, watching them all live their perfect lives and knowing I can never be that way. It sounds stupid, I know, I have all this money and this is what I complain about. All of my problems can easily go away.”

It’s hard for Ten to find fault in that. “I mean…it’s true, in a sense,” Ten replies, trying not to sound too mean. “Your life is kind of perfect. Complaining about stuff like this is kinda, I don’t know, pointless? I get feeling like you're on the outside, but you still have money. You’re still privileged. Everything comes easy to you.”

Taeyong nods, a tear slipping down his cheek at Ten’s words, making Ten feel only a little bad. It’s still hard to sympathize with someone who could buy your entire life and own you for the rest of theirs. 

“Not everything,” Taeyong mumbles softly, so soft Ten almost misses it.

“What?” he asks.

“You said everything comes easily to me,” Taeyong says, looking up at Ten through his eyelashes. “Not everything does.”  


Ten swallows down his bitter remark. “What doesn’t?” he asks instead.

“Love,” Taeyong whispers, curling in on himself and making himself seem even smaller. “I don't have anybody who just loves me for who I am. It’s about money or status or, in my family’s case, it’s obligation. It’s never just about _me_. I just want somebody to love _me_.”

And then he breaks down, loud, gut-wrenching sobs that have even Ten’s stomach clenching when he hears them. “Oh,” he murmurs when Taeyong takes a few steps closer to him, opening up his arms at the last second when Taeyong falls into him, wet face buried in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

“It’s okay, it’ll be okay,” Ten murmurs, cradling Taeyong’s head and running a hand through his hair soothingly. “Someone will come alone, it happens for nearly everyone. The chances of you never finding love are so low, it’s crazy.”

Taeyong looks up at his words, eyes wide and open, hope swimming behind his tears. “Promise?”

Ten can’t really promise anything like that, not about something he knows nothing about. He doesn't read minds or see the future, he can’t possibly know what the future holds for Taeyong. “I promise.” He says it anyway, feeling a need to reassure the boy, whether he’s right or wrong about him finding love. Reassurance is what he needs, and Ten is happy to give it to him.

What has Ten screaming inside is when Taeyong launches upwards, slamming his lips against Ten’s, moving quickly, tongue already poking at the seam of his lips. “Love me,” Taeyong mutters, bringing his hands up to hold Ten’s neck softly, scratching the skin there slightly, the light touch feeling like burns across Ten’s body. “Please, please, love me.”  


There’s a part of Ten that knows Taeyong is, to some capacity, drunk. That he wouldn't be doing this if he wasn't already feeling vulnerable and if Ten hadn't just said all the right things. Ten knows this, and yet, when the time comes to make a decision, Ten kisses him back, walking him backwards and slamming him up against the bathroom sink, grabbing his hips with both hands and lifting him onto the sink, swallowing Taeyong’s surprised moan when he leans back in. 

Ten drinks Taeyong down, battling the voice in his head telling him to stop, Johnny’s voice, choosing instead to focus on the boy in front of him, moving his hips against him and promising to love him, having no intention on keeping that promise.

-

Doyoung isn't having any fun at all. He’s angry at Taeil for dragging him here, angry that the scheme worked and that his father let him go, despite never letting him go anywhere ever before this. Doyoung’s angry that Taeil was whisked away the second they got to the party, and he’s especially angry that he saw his friend leaving with Yuta and Sicheng, hanging off the both of them like he couldn't wait to get wherever they were going, abandoning Doyoung and leaving him to suffer in solidarity.

But Doyoung especially hates that he seems to be incapable of fitting in. No matter how many times he’s tried at parties like these, he can never get himself to just go out and _have fun_, a voice in his head always telling him to pull back and restrain himself, to let the others have fun without him.

His displeasure only deepens when a clearly intoxicated Jaehyun sways into his vision, eyes blown wide and swimming with conflicting emotions. Doyoung looks around for Jungwoo, but can’t see much from his position on the couch, bodies standing all around him and blocking his view.

“Doyoung!” Jaehyun screams in his face when he finally sits down, plopping down next to him with a heavy, concentrated sigh. “I’ve been looking for you!”

“Uh huh,” Doyoung responds, unconvinced. He wants Jaehyun to leave.

Jaehyun rambles on, unaware or uncaring of Doyoung’s complete lack of interest in his company. “Yeah! Didn't know you were coming for sure. Wanted to say sorry one more time.”  


“Sure Jaehyun,” Doyoung says, turning to face the boy in question. “Look, I’m sure you’ve got a lot to say, but I really don’t feel like hearing any of it, so if you could just—mmph!”

It’s the pool all over again, Jaehyun’s lips landing on him out of nowhere, attacking him as his drunken state causes his kiss to grow sloppy quickly, getting wetter as the seconds go on. Doyoung shoves Jaehyun off of him harshly, letting the boy fall against the couch and hit his head on the wall, groaning at the feeling.

“Fuck you! Don’t ever speak to me again!” Doyoung screams, getting up from the couch and marching out the door, leaving Jaehyun behind in his drunken confusion to wonder what he did wrong.

-

Taeil sighs happily, head falling against Sicheng’s neck as the other wraps him up tighter in his arms, mouthing at his temple and whispering soft, sweet words. Even in his intoxicated state, he’s in complete bliss, dopey grin stretched wide across his face.

“You’re taking Yuta so well, baby,” Sicheng mumbles, breathing heavily in Taeil’s face, and he smells the alcohol on his breath too. “Such a good boy.”  


Yuta’s thrusts start getting sloppy, hips punching in against Taeil’s a little more infrequently, the quick, constant rhythm he set before starting to slip as he gets closer. “He’s so tight around me,” Yuta grunts, hands tightening around Taeil’s hips as he fucks into him sloppily.

Taeil moans at a particularly hard thrust, not the first time Yuta’s hit his prostate, but the first time it’s been that hard. 

“Do you feel good, baby?” Sicheng asks, kissing down Taeil’s neck before sucking on it, adding to the already plentiful blossoming marks stretching across his honey skin. When Taeil keeps moaning, unaware the question was meant for him, Sicheng pokes his side teasingly, eliciting a giggle from the smaller. “Baby, I’m talking to you. Do you feel good?”

Taeil nods, head swinging heavily and spinning from the sudden motion. “So good,” he moans out, hands reaching down to claw at Yuta’s back, pushing him forward weakly, his arms having no strength.

“I love hearing you call him baby,” Yuta pants, his words accented with every thrust. “So fucking hot.”  


Taeil looks up to see Yuta and Sicheng reaching around his body to kiss, tongues moving together in a practiced motion. Taeil sobs when Yuta’s hips slow, moving in tantalizing circles deep inside Taeil rather than thrusting fast and rough. His cries and whines alert the couple of Taeil’s predicament, and Yuta laughs wickedly as he looks over Taeil’s broken state, to his flaccid dick that couldn't get hard from all the alcohol Yuta had him consume, to his bloodshot eyes spilling tears in quick succession.

“So beautiful,” Sicheng murmurs, leaning down to kiss Taeil gently as Yuta resumes his thrusting, hips fucking in even faster as he chases his release.

From then on, the room is filled with the sounds of Yuta’s occasional grunts, Sicheng’s soft cooing, Taeil’s little “_uh, uh, uh’s_” that spill from his mouth with every thrust, and the sure sound of Yuta’s hips slapping against Taeil’s ass, jiggling with every forward motion.

When Yuta finally comes, he isn't loud, it’s with another soft groan before he leans down to kiss Taeil, a slow, hot kiss that has Sicheng whining and begging for one of his own. Yuta pulls his cock from Taeil’s ass, and the latter whines brokenly at the feeling of come running from his hole, dripping around the backs of his thighs and his crack. Yuta and Sicheng meet in the middle once more, kissing fervently, before they break apart, Sicheng with a dopey smile and Yuta with that same grin.

Sicheng looks down at Taeil, frowning when his gaze lands on his cock. “He didn't come,” Sicheng pouts. “I thought you said you felt good, baby,” he says to Taeil, who stares back up at him with glassy eyes.

Yuta reaches down and grabs Taeil’s cock, stroking it for a few minutes before letting it fall against Taeil’s thigh, still soft. “He did feel good, babe. He just can’t get it up right now. He’s too fucked up.”  


“He drank too much?” Sicheng clarifies, staring down at Taeil now with interest.

Yuta nods. “Did you?” he asks slyly, laying Sicheng down next to Taeil, watching the two with glinting eyes, tongue sticking out to lick his bottom lip slowly. Watching the two lay spread out and naked next to each other, Taeil covered in come and Sicheng with eagerly spread legs and waiting for another load has Yuta in heaven.

“I didn’t,” Sicheng answers, sounding innocent enough, “I can take it.”

As Yuta leans away to grab the bottle of lube that slipped onto the floor, Sicheng turns to Taeil, grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers. “I’m so glad you’re here, Taeil,” he sighs happily, spreading his legs wider when Yuta taps his thigh, fingers of his other hand coated heavily with lube.

Taeil’s asleep before Yuta can even finish prepping Sicheng.

-

When Johnny wakes up, he can still hear the party happening around him, his bedroom door not enough to block out the sounds from the rave that must be happening out in the apartment.

Immediately, he feels the need to pee, so he slowly sits up from the weird position he was laying in, bones cracking like an old man as he does so. Standing up from the bed sends a wave of nausea down to Johnny’s stomach, pooling there unpleasantly.

Groaning, Johnny finally musters up the courage and leaves his bedroom, forcing himself not to cover his ears at the loud music and screaming he’s immediately blasted with. He stumbles his way through the quick walk to the bathroom, opening the door hurriedly to get away from the party and—

Oh shit.

Ten and Taeyong are in the bathroom together, Ten’s pants and underwear bunched around his knees, Taeyong himself naked from the waist down, his pants thrown behind the two on the floor. Ten’s fucking up into Taeyong with quick, sure thrusts, Taeyong’s head thrown back against the mirror, mouth wide open as loud moans spill from it.

“Wow,” he says louder than he thinks, “sorry. Jesus.”

The couple startle, Taeyong scrambling to shield himself using Ten’s body, looking at Johnny with wide eyes filled with horror. 

“Johnny—!” Ten yells after him, but Johnny leaves as quickly as he came in, slamming the door shut behind him and making his way back to his bedroom, deciding to piss out the window.

-

“I don’t think you realize how serious this is, Mr…uh, Mr.—“

“Just call me Ten,” Ten interjects, a sardonic smile on his face as he does. “It makes everything so much easier on everyone.”

The inspector smiles back, albeit small and really it looks more like a grimace. “Well then, I don’t think you realize how serious this is, _Ten_, you and your friend, Mr. Seo, are our prime suspects in this case.”

Ten raises an eyebrow. “I don’t even go to that school,” he says indignantly, “why would you possibly think I had something to do with it. 

“We have other witnesses that can place you at the scene during the time of the murder,” the inspector says, assured. “Believe me, Ten, we have a substantial case against you.”

“And I’m telling you,” Ten sighs, “I _didn't do it_. We were gonna be together forever, why on Earth would I kill him?”

The inspector removes their glasses, sitting back in their chair. “Jealousy? A fit of rage? I’ve been hearing from other testimony that Mr. Seo was close with the victim as well. Maybe an argument lead to an accident? An accident you wish you could take back, but can’t?”

“I’m not just going to admit to murder by calling it an accident,” Ten snarls. “In fact, I’m not going to admit to murder at all, because I didn’t have anything to do with it!”

The inspector huffs, clearly agitated, and it takes a moment for their features to school themselves. With a newly blank face, the inspector looks at Ten again, voice carefully cool as they speak.

“Mark my words, Ten,” the inspector says, sending a chill up Ten’s spine, “my team and I won’t rest until we solve this. We _will_ figure out which of you murdered Taeyong Lee.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooooooooo........ taeyong ded


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay for this chapter :/ it was more of a filler than anything, which is why it took so long for me to write it, but i hope you enjoy regardless!!

part four.

Johnny readjusts his position in his chair, leaning backwards slightly to relieve some of the pressure on his back. 

“You found the body, you say,” the inspector says firmly. “When my team arrived to the scene, we saw you standing in the corner of the room, Mr. Lee’s blood all over your clothes and hands.”

At the mention of Taeyong, Johnny closes his eyes, fighting back the images of his body lying on the grey concrete, blood pooling all around him, Johnny helpless to do anything to save him at that point. He blocks out screaming for help until his throat became raw, trying to find a pulse on Taeyong’s neck and failing, stepping in huge puddles of crimson when he ran to the other side of the pool to get some air.

“Mr. Seo,” the inspector starts, reclaiming Johnny’s attention. “Would you like to tell us what you were doing at the pool that night?”

-

Taeil grabs some books from his locker, replacing them with books from his past classes. He readjusts his earbuds, one threatening to slip out of his ear and make him vulnerable to outside conversation. Taeil doesn't want to talk to anyone right now—he wants to go to class and then go home.

As he’s closing his locker and setting the lock, Taeil feels eyes on him, burning holes into his head and causing a blush to form on his cheeks. Instinctually, he looks to his right, horror flushing through him when he sees Yuta and Sicheng standing at the other end of the hall, both staring him down, Sicheng’s eyes filled with an innocent hope and Yuta’s a menacing, unblinking stare.

Making eye contact with them, Taeil feels the burn in his lower back, ass and thighs return, flaring up and reminding him of what went down after Johnny’s party last weekend. The bike ride to school had been hell, and Taeil had to do most of it standing up, increasing the ache in his legs.

Taeil isn't entirely sure how the events from a few nights ago transpired—he knows he and Doyoung got to the party and Yuta immediately dragging him away, leading him to Sicheng and handing him shot after shot until he couldn't see or walk straight. Taeil remembers waking up what must have been early the next morning, body aching and dick hard, body heat radiating from both sides of him. His head was pounding and he could hardly see, but he managed to make out a figure on both of sides—Yuta and Sicheng—draped on either side of him. 

His stirring had woken Yuta up, who quickly realized the state Taeil was in, and he offered to suck Taeil off to relieve the pressure. Delirious, Taeil had agreed, which led to Sicheng waking up and watching, him and Yuta having sex in front of him quickly after that, Taeil sated from his orgasm, falling asleep before he could see Sicheng’s face when he comes.

Later that morning, he woke up again to Sicheng gently tapping him on the arm, whispering softly that breakfast was ready. The three ate in awkward silence, Yuta and Sicheng switching between glancing at each other and stealing glances at Taeil, who pretended not to notice.

Taeil left after receiving kisses from Yuta and Sicheng, warm, soft and leaving Taeil with a pleasant heat pooling in his belly, a promise of what’s to come.

Neither have spoken to him since he left Sicheng’s apartment, and he hasn't bothered to get in contact with either in return. Taeil isn't sure if he should feel mortified or pleased by what went down after the party—part of him knows he shouldn’t be happy, Yuta had most likely gotten him drunk on purpose, making him pliant and quiet and ready for whatever Yuta wanted from him, but he couldn't find it in himself to care, too fixated on how badly he wanted it to happen again.

It’s the burn in his body and the shame that floods Taeil when he realizes he wants it to happen again that causes him to jerk his chin in the other direction, breaking eye contact with the two and walking the other way, hoping they stare at his ass as he walks away.

-

“Can we talk?” Taeyong asks, voice nearly pleading.

Johnny sighs, eyes closed as he rests his head on his locker. “I don't know. It’s kinda awkward.”

Taeyong sniffles, and Johnny looks over, still concerned despite what happened, softening slightly when he sees tears welling in Taeyong’s eyes. “Please? Can you please talk to me?” he whispers, voice wobbling no matter how hard he tries to keep it steady.

“Why are you crying?” Johnny asks, pulling Taeyong away from the hallway, landing in an empty classroom, noting that there always seems to be plenty of these available for times like this. “What are you so upset about?”

Taeyong huffs, irritated more than anything, scrubbing at his eyes and smudging his eyeliner. “I don’t know! I feel like you’re mad at me for…what happened, and now I don’t know where we stand. It’s weird. I feel weird around you now.”  
  
“You fucked my roommate,” Johnny deadpans, enjoying seeing Taeyong flinch, “it’s gonna be awkward.”  


“I know,” Taeyong whispers, wrapping his arms around his small frame and looking down, drawing in on himself. “I didn't really think much when it happened, it just happened. I know it’s cheesy, but it’s true.”

Johnny rubs a hand through his hair, tugging the ends in frustration. “Look, you know I like you. I think I’ve been making it really obvious. You’re cute as hell and you’re also really cool. I wanna get to know you better and shit like that. But then I walk into my bathroom and see Ten and you hooking up, it’s messing with me a little bit. I haven't talked to him either, if it makes you feel better.”

“It doesn’t,” Taeyong mutters, still refusing to look Johnny in the eye.

“Can you just…give me space?” Johnny asks, tentative. “If you wanna keep messing around with Ten, go ahead. It’s not my place to try and stop you, but give me time to get used to it. I have a crush…it’s embarrassing. Please, just let me take my time and get used to you two together, if that’s what you wanna do.”  


Taeyong nods, finally looking up, eyes dry now. “I don’t know what I want. Ten made me feel good,” he winces at his own words, looking at Johnny for a reaction. Johnny keeps his face carefully schooled. “I think you're nice and cool too, but he might be a better fit for me? I’m not sure, I need time too.”  


“Okay,” Johnny says simply. “So let’s just do that then. Give each other time, that is.”  


Before Taeyong can say anything else, Johnny’s out the door.

-

“Did you and Mr. Lee spend a lot of time together outside of school?” the inspector asks, eyes roaming Johnny’s face, searching for any sign of guilt.

“Not much,” Johnny admits. “He and I were partners for a school project—this stupid assignment where we had to get to know each other better. He came to my apartment once so we could interview each other, then he came around again for a party I threw. After that, anytime he was over, it wasn’t for me.” He tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice at that last part, but the inspector picks up on it.

Their eyebrows raise in interest. “He was seeing Mr…well, he told me to call him Ten. He was seeing Ten, wasn't he?”

Johnny sniffs. “Yes,” he bites out.

“They were together?” the inspector asks, looking as if they had struck gold. “Mr. Lee and Ten? That’s why he was always over at your apartment? Was it a romantic relationship, or of a sexual nature?”

Biting back a laugh, Johnny answers carefully. “You would have to ask Ten. He’d know better than me what they were to each other. I didn't make it my business.”

“Were you jealous? Mr. Kim and others have told me in their testimonies that you had…a crush on Mr. Lee, we’ll say. Did his relationship with Ten bother you?” the inspector questions.

Johnny taps his fingers against the table, drumming them lightly to help clear his head. “Ten and I share everything. It makes sense we’d share an interest in Taeyong too.”

“So you were jealous? Their relationship made you angry?”

Johnny looks up and stops tapping his fingers, sending a glare the inspector’s way. “Not angry enough to bash his head in.”

“Please remain civil, Mr. Seo,” the inspector instructs, a cool smirk on their face. “It just makes it easier on everybody.”  


“Quit finding a way to pin this all on me and maybe I will,” Johnny bites back, lip curled over his teeth. “I told you before and I’ll tell you again—I didn’t do shit. I wasn't there when it happened, and I certainly didn't kill him.”

“That’s what I’m trying to determine, Mr. Seo,” the inspector says with finality. “I think we’re done with questioning for today. My office will call if there are additional questions. Please have your cellphone on at all times to be prepared for that call. I imagine we aren't finished yet.”

-

“If he isn't letting you kiss him, then what the hell is the point of all this? What happened to seducing him? Are you even trying?” Jungwoo asks angrily, cheeks flushed as he holds his test to his chest, hiding the grade from prying eyes.

Jaehyun sighs, resting his head on the wall behind him. “Trust me, I’m trying. It’s not my fault he isn't biting. I’ve kissed him twice now and both times he pushed me away. Maybe he isn't into guys like that.”  


Jungwoo scoffs. “Oh, he’s into guys. I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you aren't looking. You must not be trying hard enough.”  


“I don’t really see why it’s such a big deal that it happens quickly—“

“Because I got an A minus!” Jungwoo squeals, lowering his voice when he looks around and sees all the people milling about. “I got an A minus, and I can’t be top of our class and win that trophy if I get an A minus while Doyoung Kim gets A’s and A pluses. So _fix it_!”

With that, Jungwoo stomps away, leaving Jaehyun wanting to melt into the wall and disappear.

-

“So what exactly was the party being held for?” 

Jaehyun straightens up a little, finally being asked a question he can answer. “The school holds a party at the end of the year every year, it’s part of a ceremony for the trophy they give out, and then the rest is a celebration, I guess.”

“What trophy?” the inspector asks, jotting notes as they go.

“The trophy is this huge deal at school. It’s given to a junior at the end of the year with great academics, a holistic student profile, blah blah blah. That student goes to South Korea their senior year to study at a school there, gets them an in to the best university there as well. There were a lot of people gunning for it this year, so the party was highly anticipated.”

The inspector shifts, eyebrows scrunched together slightly. “So, this trophy, was it causing a lot of tension at school? Animosity?”

Jaehyun scoffs. “Most definitely, but Taeyong never got involved.”

“He didn't want the trophy?” the inspector clarifies.

“Not that I know of,” Jaehyun sighs, eyes itching at the thought of his brother. “We didn't talk much…at all really, but especially this year. We were both off doing our own thing. He and I never talked about the trophy and he never showed any interest in the drama surrounding it. Everyone _wants_ the trophy though, only an idiot would pass that opportunity up. It’s just a lot of people know they have no chance, so the ones with the real opportunity are left to battle it out. Taeyong wasn't one of them.”

The inspector nods. “Interesting,” after writing down a couple more notes, the inspector finally closes their notepad, moving to a file lying next to it instead. “Now, I have a couple more questions about your relationship with your brother. Are you sure you’re okay to continue? I told you at the beginning, we can stop anytime you start to feel overwhelmed.”  


“I’ve been overwhelmed since I got the news,” Jaehyun admits, expression drooping sadly, “I can hardly think, but keep going. Anything to help find who did it.”

-

Sicheng’s sudden appearance by Taeil’s side in the locker room—where he's late for gym, _again_—startles Taeil, causing him to slam his locker shut loudly and exclaim, jumping in place.

“Sorry,” Sicheng says weakly, cheeks flushed and eyes darting everywhere nervously. “I wanted to talk where no one would overhear us.”  


Taeil clears his throat, embarrassed. “I don't know, Sicheng, a lot goes down in these locker rooms. More than the average person would think.”

Sicheng’s blush deepens, and Taeil starts to feel bad for saying what he did, but Sicheng begins talking instead, stuttering and flustered. 

“I wanted to apologize—_again_,” Sicheng groans, finally looking right at Taeil, face still red. “God, I feel like all I do is apologize to you. Anyways, I’m sorry for what happened at my apartment after the party at Johnny’s. You were way too drunk to be doing anything like that, given the fact that you passed out right after it. In the moment, I thought it was really hot, but looking back I’m just embarrassed. I should've said something when Yuta dragged us back to Johnny’s room, and I _definitely_ should've said something when we went back to my apartment. You were out of it and it was really wrong, and I hope you forgive us. I know we assaulted you, but if you can find it in yourself to forgive us, it would mean the world to me—“

“Wait,” Taeil interrupts, because Sicheng’s apology, while sincere and exactly what Taeil needed, is starting to fly off the rails. “_Assault_? No, no, no. First of all, there is no ‘we’ here. If anyone assaulted me, it was Yuta, not you. But second of all, I don’t see what happened as assault. I wanted every bit of it, and everything I remember from that night confirms it.”  


Sicheng whines, high and cute. “But the fact that you don't even remember all of it is my _point_,” he says, pouting a little, full lips only seeming bigger. “I still can’t believe I even let it happen. Yuta and I had a talk about it, and we agreed I should come and talk to you about it, get you to forgive us. What we did…we _need_ to apologize for it, okay Taeil?”

Taeil sighs, not really understanding the dramatics and also wondering why Yuta sent Sicheng as his messenger. Well, he _knows_ why Yuta sent Sicheng—because he knows that Taeil is already wrapped around Sicheng’s finger and, whether Sicheng himself is aware of it or not, he’ll do anything he asks of Taeil, little to no questions asked.

“Well,” Taeil says with finality, “I don't see the reason why _you_ should be apologizing. As far as I’m concerned, everything’s okay between us. _All three of us_. Okay?”

With a little prodding, Sicheng finally bends, melting under Taeil’s warm, open expression. “Okay,” he chirps, leaning in and pressing his lips to Taeil’s, a short peck that leaves Taeil’s body sparking, flames licking around his face.

“Everything okay over here?” Yuta asks from behind Sicheng, startling the pair, who break apart, looking almost guilty at being caught in their intimate moment.

Sicheng recovers first, melting into Yuta’s side and nuzzling his neck enthusiastically, like a cat with its owner. “Yes,” he mumbles deeply, “everything’s perfect. Taeil’s feeling fantastic about last weekend.”

Yuta’s glance at Taeil is complete with sharp eyes and drawn up eyebrows, a small smirk playing across his lips. “Is that so?”

Taeil gulps, looking down for a few seconds before meeting Yuta’s gaze once more. “Yeah,” he replies, proud when his voice doesn't waver at all, “I feel amazing actually.”  


“Amazing?” Yuta repeats, a smile on his lips now. “Perfect. Wanna join Sicheng and I for lunch then?”

Sicheng and Yuta stare at Taeil expectantly, Sicheng’s eyes significantly lighter than Yuta’s. Taeil doesn't even have to pretend to ponder his answer before he’s nodding, an infinitesimal shake of his head, but it has Sicheng beaming and bouncing over to him, looping their arms together as he tugs Taeil along, the two following Yuta down the hall obediently.

-

“Mr. Moon, you haven’t had much to say since we brought you in. Is there anything you want to touch on that I haven’t yet asked you?” 

Taeil keeps his head down, eyes trained on the steel table below him, following the random scuffs and scratch marks in the otherwise blemish-free surface. Without saying a word, he shakes his head, fighting to keep the pout off his face and tears out of his eyes.

He hears the inspector sigh, then the flipping of papers, then another question. “Alright. Let’s talk about your relationship with a certain couple at school. Mr. Dong and Mr. Nakamoto. Are the three of you together? As in, a romantic relationship?”

Taeil frowns down at the table, unable to school his expression. 

“Mr. Moon, I’m going to need to hear some answers from you soon, otherwise I’ll have no choice but to start regarding you with suspicion. Your cooperation is imperative in how this line or questioning goes, is that clear?”

A few seconds pass, then Taeil nods. The inspector sighs with relief.

“Excellent. Now, onto the matter of your relationship with Mr. Dong and—“

“It’s complicated,” Taeil bites out, voice shaking despite everything he does to keep it from doing so. “There were never really any labels. We just kind of…were the three of us, I guess.”

The inspector hums, the sound of their pen scratching against the paper filling the silence that follows. “But the two of them are in a romantic relationship, yes? Or, they were when you met the two of them?”

“…Yes,” Taeil answers hesitantly, finally mustering the courage to look up at the inspector. “Why does this matter to you at all? No offense,” he says in a rush.

“I’m merely gathering as much information on the core group of students involved with this case as I can. Your personal lives, while seemingly irrelevant to this case, are actually very important to finding out what exactly happened the night of the party. Please continue answering honestly, and we shall have no problems.”

Taeil nods, properly reprimanded. 

“So, can I assume the three of you attended the party together?” the inspector continues on, glancing up at Taeil fleetingly.

“We were together the entire night,” Taeil answers firmly. “We never left each others’ sides. I was never separated from either of them the entire evening, and I can assure you none of us went to the pool that night.”

-

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Jungwoo’s eyes turn cold, a deep, unattractive scowl forming on his lips. “You can’t do _what_ anymore?”

Jaehyun sighs, running his hand through his hair multiple times, batting Jungwoo’s hand away when he tries to smooth it out for him. “The Doyoung thing. I don’t wanna do it anymore. I don’t like putting on the act, it makes me feel like a douche.”  


“You _are_ a douche,” Jungwoo spits, face starting to redden, visibly showing his frustration. “You’re an entitled, rich asshole with absolutely no regard for people less than you. It’s why we work so well together.”  


“Well maybe I’m tired of it,” Jaehyun throws out, stepping away from Jungwoo and sighing heavily. “Maybe I’m tired of being so entitled, of expecting everything to be handed to me or fall into my lap, of expecting Doyoung to grovel at my feet for my attention, when in reality he doesn't give a single shit about me. Maybe I’m sick of you and _your _bratty, entitled act, pretending like you would even win the trophy if Doyoung wasn't your competition anymore. Taeyong’s grades are better than yours,” he ignores Jungwoo’s wet gasp, plowing on regardless, “I saw his progress report sitting on his desk one night when I went to borrow a charger. All of his averages are better than yours. Even if I got rid of Doyoung, you’d still have so many other people to beat for the trophy. I’m sick of it.”

Jungwoo is standing rigidly next to Jaehyun, chest hardly moving to indicate that he's even breathing at all. “Well,” he says, voice whiny and petulant, “I see that the two us are just on different pages about this, but no matter. We can put the Doyoung plan behind us and carry on like nothing happened, okay? Will that make you happy, Jae?”

Jaehyun scoffs. “You’re full of it, Jungwoo. I’m done with this, I’m done with you. Call your mom and cancel dinner tonight. We’re over.”

“What?! Jae, baby, you can’t be serious—“

“I am,” Jaehyun says firmly, effetely cutting Jungwoo off. “Please…just leave me alone from now on. I can’t do any of it anymore. I’m done.”

Jungwoo’s eyes follow Jaehyun as he walks away, coldness and anger seeping into his expression, sending a chill down Jaehyun’s spine as he turns the corner.

-

Taeyong knocks on the door carefully, the surface rough on his knuckles just from lightly tapping it, and he waits behind it nervously, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, biting harder and harder as the seconds go by. 

Finally, the door swings open, and the person on the other side barely masks their surprise at seeing Taeyong, still in uniform and looking more nervous than he's ever been in his entire life.

“Hi,” Taeyong greets, voice refusing to go higher than a whisper, blocked by his nerves and caught in his throat.

“Hey,” Ten responds, sounding much more normal and less concerned. “Didn’t think I’d see you come by here again.”

Taeyong swallows roughly, sounding loud to his ears. “Yeah, I didn't think I would either, but I wanted to talk to you. About…you know.”

“Right,” Ten says, drawing out the syllable. “The party.”

“Yeah,” Taeyong nods, “the party.”

The two stand there, staring at each other for awhile before Taeyong averts his gaze, looking off to the side and going back to chewing on his lip, blood starting to collect on the inside of his mouth from the harshness. 

“Do you want to come inside?” Ten asks sardonically, raising his eyebrows and looking expectantly at Taeyong when he turns his head back towards him at the sound of his voice.

“Oh,” Taeyong flushes, “yes,” he steps inside, fully aware of the predatory eyes on his back as he walks in.

Ten shuts the door behind him, letting it swing closed with a loud bang that startles an already skittish Taeyong, causing him to jump slightly at the noise. He hears Ten snort behind him, but he can’t muster up the nerve to say something snarky back at him, too consumed by nerves and confusion to think of anything else but the topics he’d prepared in his head before coming over.

“I talked to Johnny today,” Taeyong starts, turning back around to see Ten leaning against the wall, watching him closely. “He and I are gonna give each other space, figure out what we want.”

Ten raises his eyebrows. “Mature, for a couple of high schoolers,” he comments snidely, and Taeyong knows he's supposed to feel insulted by it. Instead, something warm ignites in his belly, flames licking up inside of him as he analyzes the gaze Ten sets onto him, eyes burning with a deeper passion and desire than Taeyong can handle right now.

“Well, we both agreed that that’s what’s best. I mean, he made it clear that he knows what he wants,” Taeyong chooses to reply with, leaving the end of his statement open, inviting Ten’s commentary.

He delivers. Ten steps closer to Taeyong, just a couple steps, but in the tiny apartment, Taeyong feels like the walls are starting to close in on him. “What, you don’t know what you want?” Ten asks, feigning curiosity, but his voice too smooth to be depicting anything innocent.

Taeyong’s eyes dart around the room before they set back on Ten much more confident than he felt when he was knocking on Ten’s door originally. “No, I think I know what I want.”

Ten smirks, closing the gap between them, faces inches from each other, toes touching through their shoes. He leaves the gap though, eyes scrutinizing Taeyong’s every move, every quiver of his lip, twitch of his nose, blink of his eyes. “Tell me then,” Ten murmurs deeply, “what is it that you want, Taeyong?”

Taeyong closes the gap between them, fusing their lips together eagerly, trapping Ten’s tongue between his teeth, nipping softly and swallowing down every bit of the other that he can. “I’d rather show you,” Taeyong breathes out when they separate for a moment, and Ten’s nasty grin only widens as he grabs Taeyong’s hand and pulls him in the direction of his bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him and locking it securely, not willing to make the same mistake twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT AND SEX UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF ALCOHOL
> 
> one quick note i wanna make before you all click away: taeil's reaction to what went down between him, yuta and sicheng after johnny's party is NOT at all healthy, nor is it right in anyway. taeil WAS in fact a victim of sexual assault in some capacity--yuta got him drunk for the sole reason of having sex with him--so much so that he couldn't even get it up while it was happening. THIS IS NOT OKAY! I DO NOT CONDONE THIS IN ANYWAY WAY, SHAPE OR FORM! of course, taeil has a right to think what he wants about the situation, but i wanted to say that i do not personally agree with what i had taeil say in his scene with sicheng. 
> 
> also, i was curious to know if anyone has any guesses as to who killed taeyong. we're halfway through the story, and i'd like to think i've hidden it pretty well, but if anyone has any guesses, leave a comment!
> 
> that's all for now, i'll see you soon with part five :))


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im back!!! sorry for the delay!!

part five.

“Mr. Nakamoto, you’re here as a formality. We’re merely gathering as much baseline information as we can before we continue further in our investigation, where more detailed questioning will take place. Do you understand this?” the inspector asks, eyebrows drawn tight on their forehead, wrinkles forming between them.

Yuta remains in place, glaring straight at the inspector, eyes completely devoid of their usual mirth. The inspector twitches under his gaze, something he finds satisfaction in, releasing the full fire brewing beneath him in his eyes.

“Mr. Nakamoto, I asked you a question. Do you understand what I just told you?” the inspector repeats, tone now somewhat wary.

Cocking an eyebrow and relaxing in his seat, Yuta shrugs. “Yes, I understand.”  


“Then why, pray tell,” the inspector says, straightening some papers on their desk as they do so, “are you acting so hostile?”

-

Taeyong wakes up after he's gently jostled, head turning too quickly, giving him the sensation of falling. He jolts awake, breathing in harshly. He blinks rapidly as he looks around, trying to get his bearings. 

The first thing he notices is his complete lack of clothes, and looking around further, he only finds his underwear and the collared shirt he wore to school. He lays bear underneath the covers, the material of which scratches his skin every time he moves, not as silky soft as he's used to in his own bedroom.

Looking to his right, dread sets in Taeyong’s stomach. Ten lies next to him, in deep sleep and blissfully unaware of Taeyong’s sudden awakening. His mouth is slightly open as he breathes heavily, puffs of air hitting the pillow on every exhale. His right arm is draped over Taeyong’s body, fingers curled gently around his hip, twitching every so often as he continues dreaming.

Taeyong hears clanging from outside the bedroom, alerting him that Johnny must be home. An involuntary flush spreads across his face as he tries to get out of bed, momentarily trapped by Ten’s heavy arm before he gently lifts the limb from his body, resting it on the bed next to him as if nothing happened, silently celebrating when Ten doesn't stir. Rushing around the room, Taeyong grabs his underwear, sliding them on quickly before grabbing the first article clothing he sees, a random hoodie lying on a bean bag in the corner, leather material chewed on some of the seams.

Taeyong unlocks the bedroom door, cursing when he remembers he and Ten passed out before either remembered to unlock it. Depending on when Johnny got home, he could've been locked out all night. 

Sliding out of the room with practiced silent steps, Taeyong exits Johnny and Ten’s bedroom, gently closing the door behind him and turning around to find Johnny standing in the kitchen, spatula in hand and expectant look on his face.

“I was gonna knock if you weren't up sooner. School is in an hour,” Johnny says in lieu of a greeting, flipping eggs in a dented frying pan, heat and oil sizzling as background noise to the otherwise silent apartment. “Are you hungry?” he asks, gesturing to the eggs.

Taeyong gulps. “When did you get home yesterday?” he asks quietly, shame coloring his tone.

Johnny looks away, ears turning pink at the question, and Taeyong groans, already knowing the answer. “Uh, I didn't get here that much later than you. Once I…realized what was happening I took a walk for a couple hours, visited Doyoung’s parents’ store. When I came back, the bedroom door was locked but I couldn't hear anything from either of you, so I assumed you were both asleep. I slept on the couch.”

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong replies, staring intently at the ground, “I didn't mean to kick you out of your own place. I’ll be more conscious next time.”

Johnny winces, hand coming up to rub across his eyebrow. “Next time?” he repeats, and it’s then that Taeyong realizes what he’s just said, what he’s implied. 

“I—“ Taeyong stutters, feeling caught, “I guess I didn't need that much time.”  


The two sit in silence for awhile, Taeyong standing in the small, open space, watching Johnny make more eggs, plating the ones that are finished. After awhile, the silence becomes too heavy, too awkward, and as Taeyong’s about to say something, Johnny turns back around.

“That’s my hoodie,” he remarks shortly, slightly bitter.

Taeyong blushes, shrinking on himself, unintentionally burying himself further into Johnny’s hoodie, much too oversized to be Ten’s—who is the same height as Taeyong—now that he’s thinking about it. It falls just below the line of his briefs, creating the allusion that he isn't wearing anything under it. Taeyong blushes further at those implications, realizing how much has gone wrong between he and Johnny since his party, their interaction right now being the culmination.

“It’s okay,” Johnny says quickly, realizing the position he's put Taeyong in, “you can keep it. Looks better on you anyway.”  


“Okay,” Taeyong mumbles, a relieved sigh passing from his lips when he spots his pants on the coffee table, folded neatly next to his backpack. Taeyong’s heart breaks as he thinks of Johnny coming home to his own apartment, his safe place, hearing Taeyong and Ten together and still cleaning up after them, spotting Ten’s own clothes folded up on the table next to his stuff.

Taeyong slips his pants on, taking the plate of eggs Johnny offers him. He scarfs them down quickly, out the door before Ten can even wake up, driver on the phone to get him out of this area as fast as possible.

-

Doyoung walks into the front of the store, backpack slung across his shoulders. He offers a smile to his father as he walks towards the door, planning to head to school with no issues. 

“Son, stay back for a minute,” his father says, causing Doyoung to freeze in his tracks. “I need to talk to you.”  


There’s a coldness in his father’s tone that has Doyoung shivering in his skin, clutching the strap of his backpack tightly, skin stretched tight over his knuckles, turning white under the pressure. 

“What is it?” Doyoung asks politely, tone still light, eyes not revealing anything.

His father looks away from the register, where he had been counting money, reaching under the counter and pulling his phone out. He unlocks it and sets it on the counter, reaching up with the same hand to beckon Doyoung over to him. “Come here. Take a look at this and tell me what you think.”

Doyoung feels like he’s walking the plank as he gets closer to his father, the dread settling comfortably in his stomach spreading down to his toes when he sees what’s on his father’s phone.

“Dad, I—“ Doyoung tries, already pleading.

“No,” his father hisses, glaring down at a picture of the party at Johnny’s apartment before looking back up at his son. He stands up from his stool, letting it clatter to the ground with the force he uses. “You listen to me. How _dare_ you abuse the trust I placed in you to go to a party?! ‘Studying’, my _ass_! Just _what_ do you have to say for yourself?!” 

Doyoung feels himself getting smaller and smaller as his father continues talking, his voice raising with every word. 

Before either can say another word, a knock on the door startles them both, his father jumping back from Doyoung, bending down to pick the stool back up and setting it back where it was before. Doyoung stares at the newcomer, shock and anger flooding his system.

Jaehyun smiles sheepishly from the other side, hand waving tentatively. Doyoung looks at his father warily before walking over to the door slowly, unlocking it and opening it for Jaehyun with a hissed “what are you doing here?!”

“I was wondering if you needed a ride to school,” Jaehyun says, voice calm. “I…broke up with Jungwoo. There’s some stuff I have to tell you, stuff about the way I’ve been acting since we started working on the project.”

Doyoung’s father chooses now to speak up. “Who is this, Doyoung? What is the meaning of all of this?”

“Dad, I’m sorry, we can talk later. I need to get to school,” Doyoung says, knowing he’s just signed his own death warrant. “This is my friend Jaehyun, he's gonna drive me to school.”

“Well,” Jaehyun says, tone cocky and Doyoung groans, “my driver’s gonna drive us, but yeah. Basically the same.”  


Doyoung glares at Jaehyun before looking back at his father, eyes pleading. “We’ll talk after school, okay dad?”

His father sits back on the stool, clearly rustled from the way Doyoung’s speaking to him. Doyoung and Jaehyun wait, the latter causally while Doyoung holds his breath, fear setting into his spine the longer his father has him wait for a response.

“Fine,” he eventually grits out, eyes downcast. “Have a good day.”  


Doyoung sighs, unable to hide his visible relief. Jaehyun eyes him as he readjusts his backpack, smile inching onto his face. “Thank you,” he breathes out, “I will.”  


The two leave the store, Doyoung leading the way despite not knowing where Jaehyun’s car is parked, getting his answer when he sees a shiny, silver car perched on the sidewalk, completely disregarding pedestrians.

“Your dad is kinda scary,” Jaehyun comments mildly, opening the door for Doyoung before he can. 

Doyoung scowls at Jaehyun, huffing as he throws his backpack into the car. “You have no idea.” The two sit in the back together, and once Jaehyun shuts the door and they’re on their way, Doyoung turns to Jaehyun, still angry at the other and unable to hide it. “You said there was something you needed to tell me?” he asks, and Jaehyun shoots him a grin.

-

“I can’t believe this,” Jungwoo mutters, watching Jaehyun help Doyoung out of his car, shutting the door for him. “He dumped me for _that_? I’m gonna vomit.”  
  
“He’s cute, I’d fuck him,” Yuta comments, despite the arm he has wrapped around Sicheng, hand closed tightly around his upper arm, no doubt leaving bruises in its wake.

Jungwoo scoffs, looking away from the pair with a disgusted expression. “I can’t watch,” he says bitterly.

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Yuta asks, smirk already forming. Next to him, Sicheng frowns, tugging on Yuta’s front to try and catch his attention, knowing the consequences of speaking up without being spoken to in the presence of Yuta’s friends. As usual, Yuta ignores him, continuing to look at Jaehyun and Doyoung with a particular look on his face. 

Interested, Jungwoo looks over at Yuta. “It sounds like you have something in mind.” 

“A guy like that,” Yuta muses, “a guy so focused on grades, staying in good standing with teachers, graduating top of his class, getting the trophy you want so desperately, they’ll do anything to stay on top.”

“Yuta,” Sicheng warns quietly, fingers curling around the collar of Yuta’s shirt. He flinches when Yuta shoves him off, moving to stand closer to Jungwoo and sling an arm around his shoulder.

Jungwoo, interest peaked, stares at Yuta. “Are you suggesting what I think you are? Doyoung Kim would _never_ sleep with a teacher, no matter how much his grade would improve. He’s a virgin, I think, and too much of a prude to go for it. You're out of your mind if you think that’ll work in the slightest.”

“He doesn't have to actually _sleep _with a teacher,” Yuta explains casually, “it just has to look like he did.”

The two friends share a smirk, completely diabolical, and Sicheng feels his nerves curl in his stomach, latching around his heart and tugging on it, taking his breath away in the process. “I don't know about this,” Sicheng says, taking a risk.

Yuta looks over at his boyfriend, eyebrow arched. “What did you say?”

“I said that I don’t know about this—if it’s a good idea,” Sicheng repeats, nervously glancing down at his shoes and scuffing them against the sidewalk as a distraction. “Yuta, Doyoung is Taeil’s friend. What if he finds out what you're planning? He won’t want us anymore,” tears start filling Sicheng’s eyes, and his heart sinks at the sneer that takes over Yuta’s face. “Please, I don’t want to lose him. He's so good for both of us.”  


Walking back over to his boyfriend, Yuta tries to clear the nastiest of his expression away, instead going for a careful blankness. “First of all, Taeil’s never gonna know that this was my idea. He and Doyoung are never gonna find out it was Jungwoo and I that started the rumor. _Second of all_,” he says sharply, the sting of his words causing Sicheng to lean back, flinching, “since when has it been okay for you to talk out of term like that? What have I always told you? I like you pretty and quiet. Think you can keep it that way? I’d hate to have to make an _example _out of you in front of my friend.”  


Sicheng, eyes blown wide with shock and panic, looks over to Jungwoo, who has his eyes carefully trained to the ground, looking away from Yuta and Sicheng as they speak. Jungwoo being seemingly okay with what Yuta is saying to Sicheng hurts him—he knows Jungwoo is Yuta’s friend at the end of the day, but part of him hopes that he cares for Sicheng as well. Clearly not, if his dismissal of Yuta’s words are any indication.

“No,” Sicheng mumbles, bringing his lower lip out slightly, just how Yuta likes it, “I don't want that. I’m sorry, I shouldn't have said anything.”  


Sicheng brings his hand down to Yuta’s belt, running his fingers across the buckle before dipping his hand below it and resting it softly on his crotch, gently massaging his cock through his pants.

He looks up at Yuta through his lashes, lips wet from licking them, looking pretty and speaking quietly when he says, “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”  


Yuta grins, landing a kiss on Sicheng’s lips. “Good,” he says before turning back to Jungwoo and explaining his plan in detail.

-

Johnny gets in from school and cringes at the way his mood instantly sours, eyes finding Ten sitting on the couch with a bag of green grapes, munching on them slowly as he intently watches their old television, image grainy and glitching. 

“Hey,” Ten greets casually, sitting up slightly at Johnny’s entrance. “How was school?”

Johnny shrugs. “Fine,” he responds as he heads into the kitchen, throwing his backpack down on a barstool as he passes it. “Same old shit, I guess.”

Ten hums, not saying anything else, and when Johnny looks back, his attention is back on the television, Johnny all but forgotten. Johnny can’t help but feel that he's being forgotten in all aspects of his life lately.

Squashing down his existential crisis, Johnny picks up a browning banana and a pack of gummy bears and sits next to Ten, trying to ignore the shift in tension crackling between them at their proximity. The two have been roommates for as long as Johnny can remember, Ten always there to look after him and help him through dark times. The abrupt shift in dynamic between them shouldn't have to change the fact that they care about each other deeply before they care about anyone else.

Except for the fact that Ten knew how Johnny felt about Taeyong, and fucked him anyways. Twice.

“I need to talk to you,” Johnny’s saying before he can think it through, wincing at the harsh underbite his words carry.

Ten arches an eyebrow, expression almost expectant as he leans over and must the television, turning back to look at Johnny. “Okay.”

“The whole Taeyong thing,” Johnny explains, though he knows he doesn't really need to. There’s only so much Johnny could be referring to, and he knows Ten knows this. “I thought I could act like it didn't bother me, but I can’t, it does. I’m sorry, but we need to talk about this.”  


Beside him, Ten’s eyes turn sad and he nods. “I understand,” he replies solemnly, perhaps bracing himself to lose Johnny.

“Why did you fuck him?” Johnny asks bluntly, the words tasting like chalk in his mouth, tongue dry and aching for water. “At our party, I mean. Why did you fuck him?”

“I don’t know,” Ten says quietly, eyes downcast. “It just happened.”

Johnny sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “No, you see that worked when I talked to Taeyong about it at school, because it’s him and for some reason everything that comes out of his mouth is irrefutable in my eyes. But it doesn't work with you. I know you too well, you didn't fuck him for no reason. So I wanna know what the real reason is. Why did you fuck him?”

“Babe—“ Ten sighs, before Johnny cuts him off.

“No!” he exclaims, a little embarrassed at how loud his outburst is. “No, that doesn't cut it! I need something, anything, to help me get over him! Why did you fuck him?”

Ten looks distraught, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He gnaws on it steadily, eyes shifting in every direction besides where Johnny is sitting, angry and waiting.

“Why did you go after him, when you knew I liked him? Why did you do that to all of us?” Johnny persists in his questioning, feeling more and more sick the longer Ten goes without offering a proper answer.

“I didn't pursue him!” Ten blurts, eyes widening. “He went after me, not the other way around.”  


Johnny halts, recoiling backwards. Grimacing, he tries to clarify. “What?”

Ten sighs deeply, eyes closing for a second before they open again, a new conviction in them. “I didn't go after him, Johnny. I walked into the bathroom, I found him, yes, that’s true, but he kissed me. He begged me to fuck him, to _love him_. I couldn't have said no if I tried.”

“I—“ Johnny starts, cutting himself off. “You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not,” Ten replies sympathetically. “I wish I was. I wanted you to hate me, to blame it all on me, not him, but that’s not how it happened. I’m sorry, Johnny, I really am.”

Johnny sits back, the revelation stinging him. It had been so much easier to just blame Ten, placing the weight of their relationship all on Ten’s shoulders, keeping Taeyong blameless and blinded by Ten’s lust for him, but he has it all wrong. Ten is innocent, as innocent as he can be in the situation, and the blame lies with Taeyong. Johnny isn't entirely sure what to do with the information, and a tiny ball of anger flares up inside Johnny at the thought of Taeyong pitting he and Ten against each other, intentional or not.

“I’m sorry,” Ten tries again, voice a little desperate.

Johnny sucks in a breath, looking over at Ten. “It’s fine,” he lies, “you don't need to apologize, it isn't your fault.”

He grabs the bag of grapes from Ten’s hand, plucking a couple off their vines and handing the bag back. “So,” he says, popping a grape into his mouth, “what are you watching?”

-

“You’re a very volatile boy, aren't you Mr. Nakamoto?” the inspector asks, eyes trailing over their notes.

Yuta scoffs, rolling his eyes and looking anywhere but at the inspector. “I don't know where you got that from. What does that have to do with anything?” he asks, tone still very hostile, despite the inspector’s earlier warning.

The inspector looks up, slightly shocked. “It matters because any detail could give us an indicator of a motive, or if anyone had the means to murder that poor boy.”

“I didn't murder Taeyong, if that’s what you’re asking. He was my friend’s boyfriend’s brother,” Yuta defends, sitting up slightly and finally making eye contact with the inspector, eyes sharp and daring them to start something with him.

“That’s fine and dandy,” the inspector says, voice catching, “but the fact of the matter is that everyone we’ve interviewed has said the same thing. Obviously the killer isn't going to sit in front of me and admit they murdered Mr. Lee, but we’re at the stage where we need to start sorting out alibis and motives, who has the means, and how Mr. Lee’s death fits into the timelines of everyone’s stories. You, Mr. Nakamoto, are not looking very good in the eyes of myself and my team, due to the way other witnesses have described you, as well as your current demeanor as you sit in front of me.”  


Yuta scowls. “Whose saying shit about me?” he spits.

The inspector arches an eyebrow. “Mind your language,” they warn, “and I am not at liberty to say. All the conversations I have with witnesses are confidential within the department.”

“Whatever,” Yuta says with ease, sitting back in his chair once again, “I don’t need to know. It’s not true.”

The inspector looks as if they’ve caught him in a trap, and perhaps they have. “So it wasn't you and fellow classmate Jungwoo Kim who pulled a prank on one Mr. Doyoung Kim, causing him to lose his place in the race for the trophy and ruining his reputation at Neo Culture Tech?”

Yuta freezes. “I don't see how _that’s_ relevant at all.”  


“Oh, you don’t?” the inspector asks, sounding very confident now. “Let’s see, a history of volatile and destructive behavior that leads to Taeyong Lee earning the coveted trophy, only to be killed by the very same trophy mere hours later. Your involvement with Mr. Lee receiving the trophy is…troubling to my team and I. Care to explain yourself?”

“My friend hates Doyoung Kim. I hate Doyoung Kim,” Yuta snarls, “that’s all there is to it. We’re done here.”

-

Sicheng hands Taeil his coffee, eyes open and warm. “Here you go,” he says softly.

Taeil thanks him with a soft smile and a kiss on the lips, causing Sicheng to scrunch up his nose, eyes lighting up as he leans in to kiss him again. The two sit, wrapped up in each other for a couple minutes, before returning to their coffees, sipping quietly and enjoying the warmth the drinks provide.

“I have a question,” Taeil says quietly after a few minutes, breaking away from Sicheng and wiping off excess spit from his lips. 

Sicheng sits back, still pliant and warm from earlier. “What is it?”

“It’s kind of random,” Taeil admits, “but why are your parents never here?”

He feels instantly guilty as he watches Sicheng’s expression drop, considerably colder than it was earlier when they were kissing.

“Sorry,” Taeil apologizes instantly, “if you don't want to tell me, you don’t have to, I was just curious—“

“No,” Sicheng interrupts, “it’s okay.” His smile is small, unsure, hardly visible to Taeil’s untrained eye. His face is very tense as he continues talking. “This apartment is huge, it gets pretty lonely without them here, but they don’t really want me around so they bought another place few towns over, away from me and away from the shame I bring them, I guess.”

Taeil frowns. “They left you here alone? Shame? Sicheng, what?”

Sicheng sighs, pointedly looking away. “It’s a little complicated,” he prefaces. “My parents and I don't really have a relationship right now. They don't agree with my relationship with Yuta, and they definitely wouldn't agree with adding you to the mix. Not because your not rich or an elite or anything, but because you’re a boy, and dating two boys at once most certainly ruins the family’s image or some shit like that. So yeah, they moved into a new apartment an hour from here and don't visit me, but they let me keep this apartment. They pay the bills, keep a maid staff hired so I don’t have to do much around here, they continue to pay my tuition to Neo Culture Tech. I guess I should be thankful.”  


And Taeil thinks that it suddenly makes sense, the way Sicheng’s apartment always seemed oddly empty, never actually lived in, like the space just exists for Sicheng to sleep in. 

_I guess I should be thankful._

“No, Sicheng,” Taeil says, leaning over to wrap his arms around Sicheng, dragging him closer to him so he's resting against Taeil. “You don't need to be thankful for the bare minimum. They made sure you have a roof over your head and a place to go to school, that’s nothing to be thankful for, that’s what every parent should do.”

Sicheng sniffs. “It’s a pretty nice roof and school, though.”

Taeil laughs, stroking a hand through Sicheng’s curly hair. “That doesn't make a difference. I’m at Neo Culture Tech on a scholarship because the roof of my school collapsed, and my parents still act like I owe them the world for letting me go there. There wasn't an alternative! All the other students at that school were bussed to an equally shitty public school forty-five minutes away, that could've been me without the scholarship, but my parents had nothing to do with it.”

“That sucks,” Sicheng mumbles into Taeil’s neck, planting small, soft kisses there afterwards,

Taeil giggles at the sensation, tugging lightly on Sicheng’s hair. “I know. Your situation sucks too, you know. Even if you still are obnoxiously rich.”

Sicheng laughs, hot breath falling on Taeil’s skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

They stay up late that night, falling asleep together in Sicheng’s bed, both without a worry in the world.

-

“We need to talk.”

Doyoung looks up from his locker, narrowing his eyes at Jaehyun, whose standing in front of him with nervous, skittish eyes that seem to dart everywhere but Doyoung.

“About what?” Doyoung asks meanly and without regret. “You already told me all about you and Jungwoo’s stupid plan to seduce me away from the trophy. What else is there? Are you planning to sleep your way into first place now?”

Jaehyun flinches. “No, but apparently you are.”

“_What?_” Doyoung hisses. “Why the _fuck_ would you say that to me?”

“Because there’s a couple pictures going around of you going down on our media teacher,” Jaehyun answers bluntly. 

Cold fear rushes through Doyoung’s blood, freezing his entire body. Dread settles deeply into his stomach. His vision goes blurry, and suddenly he sees three concerned Jaehyun’s in front of him instead of one.

“T-that’s not—I didn’t—it’s not _true_, Jaehyun,” Doyoung says desperately.

Jaehyun places a hand on Doyoung’s shoulder, and though his grip is light, it feels like a heavy weight resting on Doyoung and spreading to his chest, constricting his heart and lungs and keeping him from breathing properly. 

“I know, Doyoung,” Jaehyun says softly, caressing Doyoung’s shoulder. “Trust me, I know. It’s seriously good Photoshop, though. It’ll be hard to convince everyone that it’s fake.”

Doyoung whines, high-pitched and desperate, and Jaehyun winces, expression sympathetic and slightly guilty.

“I can’t believe this,” Doyoung whimpers, hands shaking and tears forming in his eyes. “I can’t believe—my entire life, my academic career—_ruined_, oh my God—“

“Doyoung,” Jaehyun whispers, bringing Doyoung in for a tight hug, the pressure helping to calm Doyoung down. “Please, breathe for me. I’m so sorry.” Jaehyun curses under his breath, rubbing Doyoung’s back with one hand, his hair and neck with the other.

“_Doyoung Kim, please report to the principal’s office. Doyoung Kim, to the principal’s office. Thank you._”

-

“Did you do it?”

Yuta smirks, leaning in to land a kiss on Sicheng’s lips, one of his hands clasped around Taeil’s wrist to keep him close. “So what if I did?” he asks casually after he pulls away, lighting up gleefully when he sees that Sicheng’s lips are swollen and shiny now.

Taeil tugs on Yuta, trying to remove his hand, but Yuta merely tightens his grip, fighting to keep his expression neutral at the sound of Taeil’s pained whine in response.

Sicheng’s eyes are heavy and sad as he looks at Yuta. “I don’t know why you felt it was necessary to do that to Doyoung. He’s just a person, he has nothing to do with you, and he's Taeil’s friend.”

“And?” Yuta asks.

Taeil watches as Sicheng shrinks under Yuta’s expectant gaze, losing all of the will he had as the two of them drove to Yuta’s apartment to confront him over the pictures of Doyoung that got spread around campus. He watches as Sicheng caves and bends under Yuta’s will and thinks about how Yuta fed him drink after drink at Johnny’s party, waiting until he was plastered beyond recognition to start teasing him, enticing him into sex despite the fact that Taeil was completely out of it. Yuta came inside Taeil despite the fact that Taeil couldn't even get it up (a fact Sicheng shamefully shared with Taeil after it happened). He thinks about Yuta conspiring with Jungwoo and Photoshop pictures that make it look like Doyoung gave their media teacher a blowjob, the messages accompanying the picture implying he did it for a better grade, presumably to win the trophy.

It had completely discredited Doyoung as a student at Neo Culture Tech, and aside from expelling him—it would have been too horrible an image for the school to bear, expelling a student on a scholarship after his former school collapsed—Doyoung is officially in last place for the trophy, with no opportunity to gain back his position and win it. 

Taeil thinks of how Yuta controls Sicheng, how he manipulates him into doing his bidding, how he's always okay with everything Yuta does because defying him is a mess he's not willing to partake in. Yuta has Sicheng on a string, and he’s preparing another string for Taeil.

In a moment of desperation, Sicheng looks to Taeil for help, a crucial mistake as Yuta looks between the two of them, eyes narrowed.

“Are you two fucking or something?” Yuta spits, glaring daggers at Taeil before rounding on Sicheng. “Is that why you're so concerned all of a sudden? Your fucking Taeil without me, Sicheng? Your disobeying me?”

Sicheng shakes his head frantically. “No! We’re not, I swear! We’ve only kissed! I would never do that to you, you know that, Yuta.”

Yuta isn't hearing any of it, turning to Taeil instead, digging bruises into his wrist as he pulls him closer. “I don’t appreciate being lied to,” Yuta seethes, breath fanning over Taeil’s face, sending shivers down his spine. “Especially when you’re bad at it.”

“I’m not lying, Yuta!” Sicheng wails, tugging on Yuta, desperately trying to get his attention. Taeil remains neutral, holding eye contact with Yuta regardless. “Please, leave him be, we didn't do anything!”

“Oh really?” Yuta asks, looking over Taeil’s face. “How come you don't have anything to say about it, then?” he asks Taeil, sneering in his face when Taeil doesn't respond. “You know what, we can fix this. I have a simple solution. Don’t you wanna make me happy, Sicheng?”

Sicheng nods so fast his head nearly falls off. “Yes! Anything! I’ll do anything!”

“Okay. Let Taeil fuck you, then.”

Taeil snaps his head towards Sicheng, eyes wide and already shaking his head. He doesn't want to do this, he doesn't want to fuck Sicheng like this, he wanted their first time to be different, _without_ Yuta,

But that’s the whole problem. Sicheng isn't allowed to do anything with Taeil without Yuta there. It’s becoming abundantly clear to Taeil that that’s the deal Yuta and Sicheng carved out when they made the decision to pursue Taeil together.

“W-what?” Sicheng stutters, less desperate now and more confused than anything. Taeil shares the sentiment.

Yuta smirks. “Yeah, that’ll do it. Taeil, fuck Sicheng for me, will you? I’ll watch.”

“I don’t understand,” Sicheng says, a protest ready on his tongue. “What does this accomplish exactly? How does this fix things?”

“It just does,” Yuta replies, shrugging. “I wanna watch you. C’mon do it.”  


Taeil’s ready to protest now, wanting to get himself and Sicheng out of this situation, away from Yuta, to _safety_, but he takes one look at Sicheng and the determination forming on his face, and he knows there’s little Taeil can say that will lead to this not happening anymore that won’t also end with Sicheng in trouble with Yuta, and Taeil isn't positive that Yuta won’t hurt Sicheng if given a reason to.

“Okay,” Taeil says passively, looking at Yuta. “We’ll do it.”  


Yuta smiles now, showing no teeth. “Excellent.”

_I need to save Sicheng_, Taeil thinks to himself as Sicheng all but throws himself at Taeil, attaching their lips and sucking down his soul through his tongue. He keeps thinking this as Sicheng strokes him to full hardness, gazing up at Taeil with hooded eyes as he shoves three fingers inside himself, taking the condom Yuta provides. He thinks this as he lines up his cock and slams into Sicheng’s hole, swallowing his loud moans and lapping at his skin, salty with sweat.

He thinks this as he comes in the condom, listening to Sicheng’s spent whines as his come coats his stomach and Taeil’s hands from where they were gripping his hips. 

He thinks this as he looks back at Yuta, taking in his gleeful expression and the way he licks his lips, eyes moving from between Taeil and Sicheng.

He thinks this as they fall asleep together, Taeil sandwiched between the two and given hardly any room to breathe.

-

“Yuta didn't do anything!” Sicheng insists, eyes wide and full of tears, frightfully looking from the inspector to their notes. “I don't know what you have written down, but he had nothing to do with it!”

The inspector stares at Sicheng for a long time, taking in his fidgety nature and nervous expression. They can’t help but notice, however, the absolutely conviction in his voice when he talks about Yuta.

“You’re sure?” the inspector asks. “He never left for a bit without any explanation?”

Sicheng shakes his head frantically, hair falling in his eyes as he does so. “I promise! We were together the whole time. He never left my side.”

“If you insist,” the inspector says, jotting something down in their notebook.

Sicheng sits up, back ramrod straight. His expression turns serious and unwavering as he looks at the inspector. “I do insist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the last half of this chapter was pretty rushed but im still kinda proud of it!!
> 
> leave a comment on your guess as to who the killer is.
> 
> see yall soon hopefully lmao


	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY!!!!! this chapter is......long as hell to make up for the extremely long delay.
> 
> i just finished my first semester of college, and my life has been pretty crazy this semester. moving away from home, balancing my schoolwork with my social life and adjusting to the big changes..it was a lot. i didn't have any time to write, and as finals approached, i had no chance of completing this chapter until that shit show was over with.
> 
> but finals are done now, and im home for christmas break!!! so here's the update, expect part seven soon!

part six.

“I’ll admit it, I’m having trouble piecing some things together,” the inspector says, looking particularly ruffled. “My last interview did nothing to help clarify the events of that night.”

Ten shrugs. “I’ve already told you everything I know.”

The inspector grimaces, glancing back up at Ten with masked eyes, trying to keep their true thoughts hidden from him. “See, I know that’s not true.”

They sit for a moment, both staring at the other, waiting for someone to make a move, wondering who will crack first. Eventually, the inspector grows tired of the game, and keeps talking.

“Surveillance footage from Neo Culture Tech’s pool was finally released to us,” the inspector announces, watching as Ten shrinks in his seat. “We haven't looked at it yet, but anything we find in that footage can help us corroborate what witnesses have said, placing you at the scene around the time of the murder. Knowing this now, I’ll ask you once again.”

The inspector leans forwards, for dramatic effect, Ten thinks. He stays planted in his seat, unswayed by the inspector’s antics, waiting for the final punchline.

“Is there anything you haven't shared with us?”

-

“Fuck,” Sicheng pants, leaning over the kitchen counter and placing a warm cheek on the cool surface, sighing at the small relief he gets. Behind him, Yuta slams back into him, sharp hips jutting into his ass, surely leaving bruises in their wake. “Yuta, please,” Sicheng whines, moving backwards against the inconsistent thrusts. “Fuck me, please.”  


Yuta laughs behind him, running a slender hand down Sicheng’s sweaty back, scraping his nails lightly against his skin as it trails, watching as Sicheng’s body shivers under his ministrations. “You want it?” he asks, voice dark and husky. He grins at Sicheng’s answering whine, enough of a concession for him to begin properly fucking his boyfriend, keeping a hand planted on his back to keep him hunched over, unable to move even if he wanted to.

“Yes!” Sicheng squeals as the thrusts start getting more frequent and harder, slamming his hips into the counter with every forward motion of Yuta’s hips. “Fuck!” he gasps at the stinging sensations tingling and traveling all over his body. He thinks, in this moment, that he’s hit euphoria.

Sicheng continues moaning, filling the empty apartment with his loud sounds, and he thinks that Taeil must be waking up soon, hearing muffled sounds of pleasure from a few rooms over. He imagines Taeil getting hard thinking about it, his hard cock rubbing against the cool sheets of Sicheng’s bed, his body naked from the night before. The thought has Sicheng’s noises growing in volume, and Yuta takes it as a sign to go deeper, harder. He watches as his boyfriend comes undone underneath him, body twitching and rutting against the counter, as if the cool alabaster will give him any sort of relief at all.

He finally comes, watching as his come splatters obscenely against the black countertop. Sicheng cries when Yuta keeps thrusting, chasing a release of his own, his hole twitching and cock jerking at the oversensitivity.

Yuta hits that spot inside of him as he continues his jabbing thrusts, and Sicheng can’t help the scream he lets out, sated only when Yuta places a sure hand against his mouth, holding it there firmly to keep his noises between the two of them, one fingers straying dangerously close to his nostrils, blocking a lot of air as he inhales, trying to keep his volume under control.

When Yuta finally comes, Sicheng slumps against the counter, Yuta falling against him from behind, draped over him like a human blanket. The small bit of comfort Sicheng feels from the heavy weight against him is counteracted by the absolute glee that surges through him when he hears padded footsteps in the distance, the sign that Taeil’s awake and searching for them.

“Morning,” Yuta grumbles at Taeil’s emerging figure in the kitchen, a shadow as he lurks in the doorway. “We didn't wanna wake you, you looked so peaceful, so we moved.”  
  
Yuta finally stands up, getting off Sicheng and allowing him free reign once more. Sicheng stands fully as well, wincing at the pleasurable ache between his thighs and all up and down his back. Taeil’s watching them with sleep-heavy eyes, trailing up and down both of their bodies with a mild look of interest.

“G’morning,” Taeil slurs in response, walking over to land a kiss on both of their mouths, Sicheng smiling when they come in contact. 

“You want something?” Yuta asks, his eyes trained downwards. When Sicheng follows his gaze, he sees Taeil’s cock, sitting heavy and hard against his thigh, bright red at the tip and leaking.

Sicheng feels his mouth watering at the sight, but before he can get on his knees to swallow Taeil down, Yuta takes over, placing his hands on Taeil’s biceps and guiding him towards the couch, leaving Sicheng alone in the kitchen. Sicheng watches for a bit as Yuta buries his fingers in Taeil’s hole, leaving wet, biting kisses on his neck as he does so, before his mouth waters for a completely different reason. Slinking away, he sprints into the bathroom, flipping up the seat and vomiting instantly, trying to keep the heaving sounds to a minimum, conscious of his boyfriend and…other boyfriend?

When he's finished, he flushes the toilet, resting his forehead against the cool rim and sighing deeply, trying to catch his breath. Overwhelmed with a disgusting feeling, Sicheng turns the shower on and steps inside, ready to scrub away the filth of the morning from his body.

-

Doyoung stares down at his test in front of him, panic settling over him and refusing to let him breath or feel or _think_. The red F scrawled atop the packet flashes before his eyes, his vision clouding and turning spotty as he tries to register the grade.

He had pled his case in the principal’s office the day before, crying and screaming and begging to stay at the school, insisting the photos weren't real, and he hadn't actually sucked his teacher off. That it was all faked and that he was a good student, that his record proved that, and to _please not call his parents. Please don’t call my dad_.

Regardless, Doyoung is now in last place for the trophy, a sign that the school is taking the matter seriously, and Doyoung isn't going unpunished. Apparently, whether the picture was real or not, it caused the school a lot to damage, and Doyoung needs to suffer consequences for his role in it.

The F is the icing on the cake, Doyoung thinks, and before he can even register what’s happening, someone is gripping his arm and dragging him out of the classroom, into the bathroom next door that’s currently out of order.

“Doyoung,” Jaehyun’s deep voice is soothing in his ears, sending him to a calmer place as he starts to regain control of his breathing. “Doyoung, it’s me. Please calm down. Look at me.”  


Cold fingers hook on Doyoung’s chin, dragging his gaze towards Jaehyun and forcing him to look him in the eyes. Doyoung focuses on the tiny green specks he sees every so often, swimming in the rich, dark brown of Jaehyun’s eyes. Slowly but surely, Doyoung’s breathing evens out, and Jaehyun sighs with relief, sagging against the wall he's standing in front of.

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asks.

Doyoung, pulled back into reality, flushes bright red. “It’s nothing. I panicked about a grade and I’m not even in the running for the trophy anymore, I’m fine.”

“No,” Jaehyun frowns, “a grade is a grade. It’s okay to be upset about this kind of stuff, Doyoung.” Jaehyun hesitates, contemplating what to say before finally making a decision. “Do you…wanna talk about?”

Shaking his head, Doyoung pulls himself up from the floor, standing on wobbly legs. “Not really. I’m gonna go and get my stuff.”

“Wait, Doyoung!” Jaehyun cries, grasping onto Doyoung’s wrist in a last ditch effort, immediately recoiling when Doyoung whimpers, holding his wrist in his other hand like it’s fragile, broken glass. “Wait…” Jaehyun trails off, confused and frightened, “are you hurt? What’s going on?”

Doyoung huffs, wiping a few tears from the corners of his eyes. “It’s nothing!” Doyoung insists, still cradling his wrist, which Jaehyun notices now is dangling awkwardly from Doyoung’s own hold.

“No, Doyoung, it looks really bad,” Jaehyun retorts, stepping closer. “Let me see it.”

A few weakly worded protests leave Doyoung’s lips as he watches Jaehyun slowly pull up the sleeve of his Neo Culture Tech hoodie. Doyoung tries to keep the shame out of his face when Jaehyun gasps at the ugly bruises marring Doyoung’s wrist and up his arm, looking like a mixture of fingerprints and the occasional footprint against his forearm. 

Jaehyun continues rolling up his sleeve, eyes widening larger and larger the more skin he reveals. Doyoung is incredibly thin—dangerously so—and more of his skin is covered in bruises than not. Jaehyun moves to the other side, rolling up his other sleeve and seeing similar treatment, bruises and some cuts even littering what should be pale, blemish-free skin, beautiful and creamy like silk.

“Who—“ Jaehyun cuts himself off. “Is there more?” 

He’s almost afraid he asked when Doyoung nods, tentative and looking smaller than ever. Slowly, Doyoung reaches down and grips the hem of his hoodie, curling his nimble fingers around it before pulling it up, taking his undershirt with it. He pulls his hoodie all the way up to his neck, revealing his entire chest and stomach. Jaehyun surpasses a gag when he sees an entire footprint on Doyoung’s stomach, deep purple in color with blue and green accents mottled around it. 

“What happened to you?” Jaehyun asks, breathless. His eyes find a cut in Doyoung’s side, a letter etched into his skin with a knife or something similar, a jagged A. Jaehyun knows he must look green.

Doyoung shifts, still holding the hoodie. “I—“ his voice breaks, and he takes a few seconds to swallow and compose himself. “I need to get good grades,” he says, a determination in his voice. “I need to be top of my class, I need to outperform everyone, always. No one can beat Doyoung Kim at the game he was born to play. Make all A’s or else, Doyoung. I’ll kick the shit out of you if you bring home another B,” Doyoung’s eyes turn dark, his voice altering to mimic someone else—his father, Jaehyun realizes, the strict man he met once, and it feels like such a long time ago now. “This A,” Doyoung continues, voice wavering and lip wobbling as he looks down at the letter carved into his skin, like a brand on a cow, “reminds you of the goal, Doyoung. Do not disgrace me. Do not disgrace your mother, God rest her soul,” Doyoung’s voice finally breaks at the mention of his mother, who Jaehyun realizes is dead, “never _ever_ bring shame to me.”

Full sobs wrack Doyoung’s body now, and Jaehyun steps forward, tugging his hoodie and shirt back down and pulling Doyoung in, wrapping him up tightly in his arms and squeezing, careful not to jostle the other too much or inflict pain on any of his injuries, recent or old.

“I’m so sorry, Doyoung,” Jaehyun murmurs, petting his hair as he wails into Jaehyun’s shoulder, the noise echoing around the abandoned bathroom, “I’m so, so sorry.”

-

Johnny opens the door to his apartment wider for Taeyong to step through, already apprehensive and regretting inviting him over in the first place.

“Thanks for having me over,” Taeyong chirps, clearly not feeling the same hesitation Johnny is. His expressive eyes go searching around the apartment, and Johnny’s heart sinks as he realizes he's looking for Ten, seeking out his company, whether it be subconsciously or not. 

“He isn't here,” Johnny says before he can hear the question, “he’s off hanging out with some old buddies, people from his old life.”  


Taeyong’s eyebrows scrunch together, showing his confusion. “‘Old life’? Johnny, what’re you talking about? You and Ten do that all the time, elude to some past lives the two of you lived. Am I ever gonna get clued in?” His last question is a joke, Johnny knows, but he still winces at the almost hurt smile falling across Taeyong’s lips at the thought of he and Ten keeping secrets.

“It’s nothing,” Johnny explains shortly, “inside joke.”

“But—“

“Shouldn’t we just start working on the project?” Johnny cuts in, trying very hard to mask his bubbling irritation. He wants to spend time with Taeyong, yes, maybe even eventually convince him to leave his…_relationship_ with Ten in lieu of pursuing something with Johnny himself, but he's making it extremely difficult to be around when all he wants to do is talk about Ten.

Taeyong huffs, lips pouted and Johnny almost caves. “Alright,” Taeyong relinquishes, and Johnny can’t control the relieved sigh that escapes him at the words. “What else is there left to do?”

He and Taeyong stay on the couch for hours, sorting out the next steps and last minute details of the media project, Johnny steadfastly ignoring how Taeyong keeps checking his phone and the door, as if he expects Ten to talk in at any minute, arms open and smile wide for Taeyong to bury himself into. Johnny hates himself for hoping Ten stays away for the rest of the night.

“I think we’re done,” Johnny murmurs, looking down at Taeyong and pretending not to notice the hurt on his face. “Do you wanna stay for a bit or head out?”

It’s an olive branch, and Taeyong knows, the surprise on his face evidence enough that he hadn't expected Johnny to offer to let him stay. Johnny knows Taeyong realizes it’s so that he can wait for Ten to come home, and he nods gratefully. “I’ll stay for a bit, if you don’t mind,” he whispers.

Johnny nods. “Of course. Stay as long as you want.”

“Can I ask you something?” Taeyong asks. “You don't have to answer if you really don't want to, but it’s something I’ve been curious about.”

“What is it?” Johnny asks, hesitant.

Taeyong pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, biting hard. When he releases it, it’s bright red. “Why do you live with Ten? I mean, why do you live here instead of with your parents?”

“Oh,” for some reason, it’s not what Johnny was expecting Taeyong to ask at all. “I don’t really know. My parents didn't treat me right. They didn't beat me or anything but…they weren't there for me, the way parents should be, you know? So when Ten found this place, I moved in with him. Haven’t heard from my parents since.”

He hears Taeyong gasp next to him. When he looks over, Taeyong’s eyes are filled with tears, some falling down his cheeks already. “I—“ he stutters, c=opening and closing his mouth abruptly, looking away at the last second.

Johnny sighs, facing forward once more. “Yeah, it’s not that big of a deal. I’m sure people out there have been through worse. Ten pays for the apartment, I live here for free. I have nothing to complain about.”

“How does Ten afford the apartment?” Taeyong asks, sounding genuinely confused. “I mean I know it’s not that nice—no offense, sorry—but still, he's the only one who pays rent? Utilities? Water? All of it? How is it possible?”

And Johnny thinks in this moment, this is it. This could be what draws Taeyong away from Ten, what brings the two of them together. He could so easily speak about Ten, share all of the secrets he's no doubt kept from Taeyong, and will continue to keep for as long as he can. Johnny can expose him, leave him out to dry, open his arms for when Taeyong comes running to him for comfort.

“Jobs,” Johnny says instead, “he works a lot.”

Taeyong nods, still slightly confused. “Oh,” he breathes, “alright.”  


Johnny almost winces—lying to Taeyong has always put a bad taste in his mouth—but he doesn’t. “Yeah,” he retorts awkwardly, pretending like he didn't just outright lie to the boy sitting next to him.

“Do you think Ten will be home soon?” Taeyong asks, starting to fidget, anxiously picking at the skin around his nails. Johnny sees some blood dotting around his thumb, but he doesn't say anything. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to him about. It’s really important.”  


“I don’t think he's coming home at all tonight,” Johnny admits, “he usually doesn't if he's out this late.”

Johnny watches Taeyong deflate, sinking back into the couch like he's melting, becoming a puddle on his furniture. “Oh,” he says again, voice and bottom lip wobbling. Another tear falls from his eye.

“Is everything alright?” Johnny asks urgently, wanting desperately to reach over and brush the tear away. “You could talk to me about it.”

Taeyong shakes his head avidly and Johnny pretends he isn't hurt. “No,” Taeyong insists. “I can’t talk about it with you, it’s private. This is between Ten and I, it’s just something that’s been bothering me for a bit, but I can wait until another time to talk to him. It’s okay.” To Johnny’s horror, Taeyong stands up, grabbing his bag and shouldering it with a false determined look on his face. “I should get going,” Taeyong announces weakly. “Thanks for the company, Johnny.”

“Wait, Taeyong!” Johnny calls after him, Taeyong already having made it to the door. The other turns around tentatively, desperation on his face, so Johnny presses. “You can tell me, I promise I won’t be weird. Whatever’s bothering you, I can help you out. As a friend.”

“I can’t—“ Taeyong’s voice breaks and he sobs, falling to his knees in the entryway. Johnny rushes over, wrapping his long arms around Taeyong’s petite frame and holding him close, closing his eyes as he feels the other shaking in his grip.

Johnny murmurs to Taeyong softly, trying to calm him down. “Taeyong, everything’s gonna be okay. Just tell me what’s going on, I promise I can help you. All you have to do is tell me what’s going on with you.”

“I-I’m,” Taeyong stutters, sucking in a breath harshly. “I’m positive.”

“What?” Johnny asks, though he has a feeling he knows what Taeyong’s talking about, dread already settling in his stomach. “What was that, Taeyong?”

“I’m positive,” Taeyong says, words barely decipherable through his shaking and stumbling. “I’m HIV positive.”

Johnny sits back on his heels, reeling in shock. Taeyong has HIV, okay, so do hundreds of thousands of other people all around the world, that doesn't mean anything. But did he get it from Ten? When did Ten get HIV? Why didn't he tell Johnny?

Before Johnny’s thoughts can spiral, Taeyong keeps explaining, still looking completely shattered and heartbroken. 

“I was already,” Taeyong says, “before I met you guys. I’ve been on medication since late last year.” Johnny can’t help the sigh of relief that Ten wasn't the one who gave it to Taeyong. “I’ve been really militant about it. I always insist on condoms and all of that, but the first time that Ten and I—“ he breaks off again, sucking in a few more breaths before continuing once more, “we didn't use a condom, the first time. I insisted every time after that but not during your party.” The look on his face is peak devastation, and Johnny can’t help the pity that runs through him at the sight. “I can’t keep going without telling Ten. He needs to know, needs to get tested. I’m sure I gave it to him, there’s no way I haven’t.”

“Taeyong, I’m so sorry,” is all Johnny can think to say, watching as Taeyong breathes heavily after his speech.

Letting out a wet chuckle, Taeyong shakes his head. “You don't need to be sorry, Johnny. You didn't give it to me, some douche did. Please don't tell Ten, though. I want to be the one to tell him, to go with to get tested. I feel so guilty, and I don't want this to come from someone else. Please, Johnny, will you keep it a secret for a little bit?”

“Of course,” Johnny says, even though the words feel like lead in his mouth. “It’s safe with me, for as long as you need.”  


Taeyong leaves shortly after that, with a grateful smile and tears still falling from his eyes, but looking as though a weight lifted off his shoulders. Johnny shuts the door and sits against it, putting all his weight on it and sliding until he reaches the floor, sitting there for hours until Ten tries to open the door, meeting Johnny’s heavy weight.

And as Johnny gets up to let Ten in, let’s Ten walk him to the couch and get him a glass of water, let’s Ten ask what’s wrong over and over again, Johnny can’t help but want to be cruel. He wants more than anything for Taeyong and Ten to be over, for himself to have a chance with Taeyong. He wants Ten out of the corner, back where he was before this entire mess started. He wants.

So he does the unthinkable, blinded by that want.

“Ten,” Johnny says slowly, drawing Ten away from his constant hovering and questioning, “there’s something I need to tell you about Taeyong.”

-

“Inspector!”

The inspector looks up at the voice in the hallway, belonging to a short intern with a nervous smile and kind eyes that melts the inspector’s cold, outside perspective.

“Yes?” the inspector asks, watching as the intern shrinks in on himself the closer he gets, shaking like a leaf by the time he comes to stand next to them.

“I’m sorry, Inspector,” the intern sighs, “someone hacked into our database. The security footage from the pool at Neo Culture Tech? It’s all gone. I checked all the way from a month back, and there’s absolutely nothing.”

The inspector freezes, staring at the intern with wide, disbelieving eyes. Their only lead…gone.

-

It takes awhile for Jaehyun to notice it, but once he does, there’s little else he can think about.

His father has been disappearing more and more frequently, taking phone calls during meals then leaving shortly afterwards, citing work or something else. His mother says nothing of it, sipping more of her wine and nodding her agreement, passively watching as her husband leaves his wife and children behind night after night, not returning until the next afternoon and looking completely frazzled.

Jaehyun’s first thought is the obvious, his father is cheating. What better explanation for the constant sketchy behavior? Keeping all the secrets, disappearing all night and morning? What other options are there?

“Have you noticed anything weird with dad?” Jaehyun asks Taeyong, cornering him by the medicine cabinet in the kitchen as he takes his meds. “Like with the constant phone calls and the leaving all the time?”

Taeyong raises an eyebrow. “I hadn't put too much thought into it, but you obviously have. What do _you_ think is up with dad?”

“An affair,” Jaehyun blurts, “it’s gotta be. He leaves all night and doesn't come back until late afternoon. Mom’s completely passive, as always. I think he's cheating.”

“Interesting theory,” Taeyong mocks, “thank you for your service, Detective Jung.”

Jaehyun huffs, not bothering to mask his annoyance. “You know what, you can sit there in your little bubble and be like mom pretending nothing’s wrong, but I’m not gonna do that. I’m gonna figure this out. We don't deserve this, the way he's been acting. We need more than this.”

“When has dad ever paid anyone in this house the proper time of day?” Taeyong asks sardonically, but Jaehyun hears the bitterness underneath his tone. “I mean seriously, Jae, when has dad ever been fully _in_ the family. Not to be depressing, but maybe this is what everyone needs. When he's here, he's not actually present, so him being gone is honestly for the best in my opinion.”

The anger Jaehyun feels at his brother’s words is mostly to do with the fact that he knows he's right, as always. “Whatever,” he scoffs, “I’m still gonna figure this out.”  


Taeyong rolls his eyes. “Okay. Good luck with that.”

“You’ll see,” Jaehyun insists, grasping for strings at this point, “there’s something going on here.”

“Honestly, Jaehyun, just _leave it alone_,” Taeyong hisses. “This isn't any of our business. Drop it.”

Grumpy, Jaehyun stomps away, but not before flipping Taeyong off as he rounds the corner, smirking triumphantly at the indignant squawk he hears from the kitchen in response.

There’s something going with his dad, Jaehyun knows, and he’s not going to stop until he figures it out.

-

It seems that every other week a fundraiser of some sort is held. Be it a way for rich kids with rich parents to feel better about their careless attitude towards money, or for rich companies to profit off of those that will flash their money in an instant for the chance to dress up and show out. Whatever the reason may be, as Sicheng ties up Yuta’s tie for him, he cannot help the copious butterflies in his stomach, chasing after each other and wreaking havoc.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sicheng asks, biting his lip nervously as he tugs on Yuta’s tie. “Going together, bringing Taeil? My parents will be there, Yuta. I don’t want things to get dramatic for no reason.”

Yuta arches and eyebrow, looking directly down at Sicheng with piercing eyes that send shivers down to his toes. “You think they'll make a scene?” Yuta asks, challenging. “That they won’t respect where they are and start shit up for no reason?”

Sicheng winces. “You know neither of them have ever been very accepting of us,” he tuts, fingers trembling around the tie’s knot. “We never go to these things together, they expect that of me.”

“So you don’t want them to see you happy?” Yuta asks, the coldness from his tone seeping into Sicheng’s lungs, blocking his breath. “Are you not happy, baby?”

The nickname shatters and repairs Sicheng’s heart at the same time, and he rushes to correct himself under his boyfriend’s unrelenting stare. “Of course I’m happy!” Sicheng insists, voice raising in pitch and volume as he makes his case. “You make me the happiest I’ve ever been, and I mean that. I love what we have, what we’re doing with Taeil. I love all of it, but my parents don’t. They’d rather see me dead than out in public with a man, much less _two_. It’s indecent in their eyes.”  


Yuta’s thin hands come up to grab Sicheng’s cheeks, cradling one in each palm and rubbing his thumbs across the bottoms of Sicheng’s eyes, where tears are threatening to fall and ruin his perfectly drawn makeup. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Yuta says, and Sicheng aches inside because he knows, deep down, that it’s a lie. “I want to go to the fundraiser with you. Together. You, me and Taeil, like it’s supposed to be.”

“I want that too,” Sicheng murmurs, leaning forward to kiss Yuta, not caring if his lipgloss smudges. “I’m sorry for even bringing it up,” he assuages.

“It’s alright, let’s forget it happened, okay?” Yuta replies.

An uneven tensions spreads throughout Sicheng’s body. Something feels wrong, and for once he knows exactly what it is. He did not need to apologize, he did nothing wrong, objectively speaking. He simply voiced a concern of his—a valid one, at that—and wanted his boyfriend to make him feel better. So why did he apologize at all?

Because Yuta’s forgiveness, his validation, is something Sicheng craves, no matter how hard he tries to deny himself or tell himself differently. Knowing Yuta is content with Sicheng’s behavior, that he’s lining up with the vision Yuta has of him, is everything Sicheng has ever needed. He’s happy as long as Yuta’s happy, and the thought makes him sick to his stomach.

“How do I look?”

Sicheng and Yuta’s heads snap in the direction of the voice at the same time, and Sicheng knows they must look ridiculous. Taeil stands in the hallway, nervously fidgeting from foot to foot as he stands under their combined gazes. “Well?” he presses, reaching up to smooth his already gelled and styled hair. Yuta walks over to him, batting his hand away and tutting disapprovingly at the action, but smiling all the same. Not with teeth, Sicheng notes, as Yuta normally saves those smiles for his friends, the kind that split his face in two and make Sicheng crumble the second he does it.

“You look amazing, baby,” Yuta says, running his fingers lightly across Taeil’s face, leaning in to peck him, licking the gloss that gets stuck to his lips off sensually. Taeil stiffens as he watches the action, but his gaze eventually falls over Yuta’s shoulder.

“What about you? What do you think?” Taeil asks.

Sicheng blanches at the blatant shift of attention onto him, hoping it doesn't upset Yuta the way he thinks it will. “What Yuta said,” Sicheng replies diplomatically, because Taeil really does look nice, “you look so handsome.”  


Taeil beams at Sicheng’s answer, but he leans in and kisses Yuta one more time. Sicheng sighs in relief. Hopefully Yuta didn't notice the extreme difference in reaction to Yuta and Sicheng’s answers, though they were both the same.

“Are you two ready to go?” Yuta asks, looking between Taeil and Sicheng with a playful expression. 

Sicheng follows Yuta and Taeil—who are now arm and arm—out the door, trying to swallow down the enormous lump of dread rising up his throat.

-

Honestly, Johnny is surprised at how easy it is to sneak into the fundraiser. Security at the front was insane, lines of guards waiting with clipboards and expecting each person next in line to not be on the list, stern frowns set into their faces, creases between their eyebrows never flattening. But when Johnny walked casually around the back, he only found a few guards lingering, two sharing a cigarette and getting closer and closer to each other by the second. Johnny opens a back door and is suddenly in the middle of a massive kitchen, navigating through some hallways until he finds himself in the ballroom where the fundraiser is being held, marveling at the sights before him.

There are ten chandeliers in total, all equal in their grandeur, hanging from the ceiling, teardrop crystals sparkling against the candle lit within them. Johnny wonders just how tall the ladders were that allowed people to get all the way up there, as the ceiling seems limitless in height.

Johnny’s never seen so many expensive looking people crammed into one room, and he knows that if he tapped anyone on the shoulder and spoke with them for five minutes, it would be determined that they could buy out Johnny’s entire life and own him.

After a few minutes of gawking, Johnny remembers his mission, his height giving him an advantage and allowing him to search for the head of icy hair he’s been looking for. 

He heard Ten’s phone conversation in their shared room while he was in the kitchen, their walls still too thin. He heard Ten call Taeyong a liar, a slut, and to never call him again. He heard everything, and his stomach sinks every time he remembers that he was the cause of the hurtful words thrown at Taeyong. Though he wasn't with Taeyong while the call was happening, he can only imagine the pain and heartbreak.

He needs to set the record straight—to ask Taeyong to forgive Ten’s harsh words and to try and win him back, to give him any help he needs in winning Ten back.

To admit that it was him that told Ten about his secret in the first place.

Johnny’s guilty overshadowed any victory he might have felt over succeeding in breaking Ten and Taeyong up. Whatever type of relationship they had—extremely sexual but lacking any intimacy, most likely—is none of Johnny’s business. For him to intervene at all is a gross invasion of boundaries and respect that the other two thought the three had between each other. 

He messed up. Big time.

Johnny finally spots that icy hair moving amongst the crowd, appearing to be sneaking around the side to a hallway. Moving quickly, Johnny finds himself nearly running down the same hallway, scuffed sneakers squeaking against the immaculate tile floor, chasing clean, clicking footsteps that must belong to Taeyong’s fancy boots.

Finally, Johnny rounds the corner and almost runs into a slim body in front of him, his hands coming down to grip on their waist and avoid toppling them over. He gets a face full of spiky white hair, breathing in the familiar smell of hairspray. 

“Taeyong,” Johnny breathes, inhaling more of his hair and ignoring the sting at the back of his throat from the chemicals. In front of him, Taeyong leans back, lining up their bodies and bringing his tiny hands up to cradle Johnny’s larger ones.

“I thought it was you trampling behind me,” Taeyong muses, and Johnny can hear the smirk on his face.

Johnny sighs. “I snuck in,” he explains, “it’s surprisingly easy to get into this place. Security needs to watch the back a lot better than they are right now.”

Taeyong snorts, turning in Johnny’s arms so he can hug him properly.

As the two stand locked together, Johnny’s guilt rains over him like a thundercloud, dimming any good mood he could be in from the contact.

“I’m so sorry about you and Ten,” Johnny says despite all of his instincts tell him not to. Taeyong stiffening in his arms is like the final nail in the coffin. “I had no idea he would react like that—“

“You heard what he said?” Taeyong asks, voice quivering. “When he called me? Or did he tell you about it after?”

Johnny frowns, cupping Taeyong’s cheeks with his hands, wanting to squish them together but knowing it will only make the other more upset. “I overheard. Thin walls, you know.”

Taeyong hums, looking down. Johnny gently grips his chin and tilts his head back up, heart stalling when he sees Taeyong’s eyes swimming with tears. 

“No, Taeyong, I’m so sorry—“

“I can’t believe he said those things to me,” Taeyong cries, voice thick and wobbly. A tear escapes his eye, dropping down his cheeks and stopping next to lip, Johnny wiping it away with his thumb without a second thought. “He said he got tested at this free clinic…he’s _positive_. He blames me—which he should, but—he called me a _whore_.”

Johnny brings Taeyong back toward him, enveloping his small frame with his own, waiting for the shivering to stop. He cards his fingers through Taeyong’s styled hair, careful not to pull on any strands stuck together. 

“I still don’t even—how did he find out?” Taeyong asks, voice desperate, and Johnny freezes. 

Part of him had hoped that Taeyong knew it wad Johnny who told Ten, and that he saw past it. Given the horrible things Ten said to him over the phone, it would make sense for Taeyong to place all his anger onto Ten, forgetting Johnny’s role in the entire thing. 

“You don’t know how he found out?” Johnny asks, unsure.

Taeyong looks up, face puffy now, lips pouted cutely. “No clue,” he admit, “I was about to tell him everything—confess and accept whatever anger he had for me, but he must have overheard one of my conversations with my doctor. I remember one time she called while I was at your apartment, and I had to take it in the living room to avoid him overhearing. Still, it’s weird. I was so sure he couldn't hear, and I know you wouldn't have told him, you promised me. So I have no idea what to think. i’m just…hurt.”

_I know you wouldn't have told him, you promised me_.

“Right,” Johnny replies, heart breaking and guilt nearly destroying him. “Listen, Taeyong,” he starts, but one look at Taeyong’s expectant face, eyes wide as he listens attentively, bottom lip between his teeth, and Johnny’s gone completely, “we’re standing in the middle of a hallway. Do you wanna find a bathroom and clean up? I bet you’ll feel better.”

Taeyong blinks, then smiles, small and most likely fake, but a smile nonetheless. “Okay,” he agrees, “you’re right. I was actually on my way to the bathroom anyways, they’re just around that other corner.”

“Lead the way,” Johnny says, allowing himself to be pulled down the hall, stomping down every bit of him that’s screaming to tell Taeyong the truth with every step he takes.

-

“Enjoying the party?” Jungwoo coos softly, running a finger down Jaehyun’s chest, not stopping until he reaches his crotch, cupping it and squeezing lightly. “I know I am,” he continues, using his other hand to scratch behind Jaehyun’s ear, a tender spot for him.

Jaehyun steps away from his touches. “Stop it, Woo,” he hisses, readjusting his pants. “I’m not doing that with you anymore, and if you wanna talk—which I highly doubt—come to me another time. This shit is important.”

“Oh please,” Jungwoo scoffs, leaning back against a table behind him. “A fundraiser for a charity supporting starving Ugandan children? It’s all going back into these people’s pockets anyways. These events are always bullshit anyway, you and your daddy know that very well.”

Jaehyun flinches at the mention of his father. Since he started paying attention around the house, his father’s strange behavior has led him down a path he wishes he had ignored, like Taeyong suggested. For Jungwoo to announce his father’s history with faking charities in public like this stirs something in Jaehyun’s gut that makes him sick.

“Don’t talk about my father,” Jaehyun sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “don’t talk to me at all, actually.”

Jungwoo laugh cruelly, head flung back and mouth opened prettily, reminding Jaehyun of what drew him to Jungwoo in the first place, besides his father’s insistence that Jungwoo’s father’s money was something Jaehyun would want a hand in. “We’ll see about that,” Jungwoo declares, face nothing but confident as he leans in close to Jaehyun. “You always come crawling back.”

-

“I changed my mind,” Sicheng whispers, trying to tug the hand Yuta’s holding tightly out of his grip, already formulating a plan to flee the scene. Taeil watches on with concerned eyes, smartly choosing to stay silent. “I can’t do this, Yuta. I’m so sorry, I’m not ready, I can’t—“

“You _are_ ready and you _will_ do this,” Yuta hisses, before reaching up with his other hand to crook his fingers, beckoning people Sicheng can’t see yet from the distance.

Sicheng swallows the bile threatening to spill out of his throat, feeling his cheeks heat up and palms start to sweat. “Yuta, please don’t make me do this. I’m so sorry, I’ll do anything to make it up to you, but _please_, just let me—“

“Sicheng? Is that you?”

Frozen, Sicheng snaps his head from Yuta’s face, expression now smug and the very definition of pleased, to his mother and father, standing close to the steps the three are on now. His father’s eyes are trained on Sicheng’s hand in Yuta’s, while his mother has the good grace to put a smile on her face, though it’s strained and not very subtle. 

“Hi mother, father,” Sicheng acknowledges both his parents, eyes wide and brain unresponsive. He has no idea what to do or say in this situation. “How is your evening?”

Sicheng’s mother sniffs, smile stiffening at the question. “It is just fine, we only arrived twenty minutes ago, but things are starting to pick up around here. Yours?”

“Mine is fine,” Sicheng mumbles, already remembering past days he can never get back, of a young version of himself sitting at the dinner table and listening to his mother’s gentle scolding about mumbling his words, that speaking so quietly in a world of merits will not serve him any good, and that he should speak up, make himself heard, if he is to be anything in this lifetime. “We just got here, obviously.”

“‘_We_,’” Sicheng’s father repeats, tone mocking as he finally trails his eyes up to Sicheng’s face, daring to look his son in the eyes.

Invigorated by the hatred in his father’s eyes, emboldened by the memories of his mother’s fierce parenting, before the two dropped him like a bad habit and turned his entire life upside down, providing just enough comfort and luxury to still award themselves the title of parents, without having to do any of the work to reap the benefits, Sicheng’s nostrils flare and he huffs a sarcastic laugh. “Yes, father, _we_. My boyfriends and I.”

Yuta’s hand tightens around Sicheng’s, and if he were to look over, Sicheng knows he’d see a brilliant smirk on his boyfriend’s face. He feels a hand ghost over his should before it settles around his bicep, fingers curling daintily, protectively. Taeil’s presence behind Sicheng gives him the final push of strength he needs to look both of his parents head-on.

“Boyfriends?” Sicheng’s mother parrots, incredulous. “What in the world do you think you’re doing, running amok like this? Do you know the shame you bring us, bring our family’s name and the legacy it carries? How dare you?”

“How dare I?” Sicheng asks. He’s the one who’s mocking now. “You turned your backs on me, you don’t get to comment on how I live my life. I will love who I love in as many amounts as I please, and you can’t say shit about it.” Sicheng leans over then, capturing Yuta’s lips in his and his boyfriend, ever the possessive, touch-starved beauty that he is, slides his tongue into Sicheng’s mouth immediately, lapping at his teeth and tongue and making the kiss sloppy and wet for Sicheng’s parents’ horror and their shared delight. Yuta releases him with a loud smack of their lips, red and swelling from the kiss, and Sicheng immediately turns around and leans into Taeil, cupping his face with his free hand and kissing him softly, letting their lips move slowly and carefully, a clear contrast to the show he and Yuta just performed.

Sicheng turns back to his parents, both green in the face and looking around shamefully, hurriedly searching to make sure no one witnessed Sicheng’s display of affection. 

“Fuck you guys,” Sicheng spits out, turning around to walk right back up the stairs, Yuta and Taeil flanking his sides.

-

Jaehyun inhales sharply, mouth open wide and eyes screwed shut, trying to keep the blatant satisfaction off his face as Jungwoo rides him, soft thighs squeezed around his waist as his body moves up and down, rocking the two at a set pace that leaves Jaehyun breathless. Laid out on a table in a restricted area, Jaehyun feels nothing but pleasure crawling down his spine.

“I told you,” Jungwoo breathes out, hands coming up to cradle Jaehyun’s face in his, “you always come back to me. Resisting me is pointless, after all.”

He leans his entire body down to lay across Jaehyun’s chest, hips moving in slow circles and drawing out loud, unabashed moans from Jaehyun. Jungwoo leans in and kisses Jaehyun softly, tongue running along the seam of his lips, asking politely for entrance. In his fit of lust, Jaehyun opens his mouth, granting Jungwoo access, his own hands coming up to grip the soft flesh of Jungwoo’s hips, helping him move their connected bodies together and sending sparks down his body to his toes.

Jungwoo comes up for air, smiling with a sickly sweet satisfaction when Jaehyun dips lower to nip at Jungwoo’s neck, his favorite spot after all this time, sucking the skin there every so often and leaving bruises in his wake. Jungwoo turns his head to the side to grant more access, as well as to make eye contact with the phone he propped up on the chair next to them, smirking at the camera and moaning when Jaehyun thrusts his hips up, their skin smacking together as he does.

“I love you, Jaehyun,” Jungwoo whispers, swallowing down Jaehyun’s answering grown with a kiss. “Fuck me,” he whimpers when he’s released, squealing in pleasure when Jaehyun flips them over, the table creaking underneath them. Jaehyun grabs Jungwoo’s legs and flings them over his shoulders, sliding home and moaning as he does so.

“Fuck me,” Jungwoo repeats, making eye contact with the camera once more before going back to pretending it doesn't exist.

-

Johnny watches as Taeyong splashes water on his face, trying to help with the swelling around his eyes. When Taeyong turns around, Johnny has a small stack of paper towels ready, and Taeyong grabs one to dab under his eyes and around his face, careful not to rub all over his skin and cause it to become more inflamed.

“Thanks,” Taeyong mutters as he walks over to throw the paper towels away. He stands over there for a few extra seconds, and Johnny sees that he’s breathy deeply, probably trying to slow it down.

Johnny stands awkwardly at the sinks as Taeyong turns back around, wry smile on his face. “I can’t believe all of this happened,” Taeyong says ruefully, walking slowly back to the sinks. “I don’t know what I expected from Ten, to be honest our relationship wasn’t…much. We weren't very emotionally attached, and I know he didn't particularly _like_ me very much, but I still thought we had something. We talked all the time about everything. I told him everything about myself, and it sounded like he was telling me everything too. I know why he's upset, and I don’t blame him for breaking it off, but the stuff he said to me—I just can’t believe he would ever stoop to that level.”

“People do dumb shit all the time,” Johnny says, knowing as he's saying it just how stupid he sounds. “Maybe in a few days he’ll come to his senses and realize he fucked up, maybe he’ll apologize and you two can get back together.”

Taeyong scoffs. “I don’t want to get back together with Ten,” he says, and Johnny feels a spike of hope rush through his veins, warm like blood. “He said some awful things to me. I can’t be with someone who speaks to me that way, in any sort of capacity.”

“Oh,” Johnny sighs, looking down at Taeyong directly. Taeyong turns and looks up at him, eyes shining with new, unshed tears, and Johnny wishes he were better with words, so that there might be a chance of him saying something to make Taeyong feel better.

“That first night, at your party…” Taeyong trails off, biting his lips nervously. “I told Ten that all I wanted was for someone to love me. Then I let him fuck me against the bathroom sink and then fuck me countless times after that all over the place. I knew he didn't love me, he didn't even know me. I know he doesn't love me now, even after he's gotten to know me. I gave myself to him again and again, and for what? He’ll never love me, he can’t give me what I want, he just gave me instant validation that I warped in my head to fit what I really wanted.”

Johnny inhales sharply when Taeyong suddenly moves in closer, looking up at Johnny with purposeful eyes.

“Do you still like me, Johnny?” Taeyong breathes out, letting it fan across Johnny’s face and seeming pleased when Johnny shudders at the contact.

“You know I do,” Johnny replies. “I like you so much, I never stopped.”

Taeyong licks his lips, maintaining eye contact with Johnny while he does so, and Johnny allows himself to feel genuinely hopeful for what’s to come, anticipating something and actually expecting to receive gratification this time.

“I like you too, you know,” Taeyong replies, voice small, “maybe a little too much. It always made me uncomfortable, knowing that I was messing with Ten right under your nose, all in your space like that, but I couldn't figure out whether it was because it was Ten or because I liked you too.”

Johnny swallows, refusing to let himself breathe or blink out of fear of missing anything in this moment.

“Johnny,” Taeyong says, “could you grow to love me?”

Easily. Johnny would love Taeyong in a heartbeat as long as he asked. Johnny would do absolutely anything for Taeyong without a second thought, and that thought alone gives him chills.

“Yes,” Johnny answers, licking his own dry lips and panicking when he sees Taeyong’s eyes flick down to them, watching intently.

Taeyong surges forward then, smashing their lips together, and Johnny nearly crumbles under the weight of relief that settles over him, alongside undeniable joy for finally getting what he wants.

Is Taeyong using him? Most definitely. Will Taeyong want to keep using him after this? Probably not. Will Johnny enjoy this moment regardless? Absolutely.

Johnny moans into the kiss when Taeyong sucks his bottom lip between his, biting gently while his hands reach down to undo Johnny’s belt, button and zipper, shoving his pants down his legs and cupping his cock through his briefs. “Fuck,” Johnny hisses at the contact and Taeyong laughs into his mouth, squeezing Johnny’s cock confidently and nearly shoving his tongue down Johnny’s throat.

“Johnny,” Taeyong pants, stepping away momentarily. “I want you to fuck me on the sink. I want you to ruin me.”

And that Johnny can do. He hoists Taeyong up on the counter, watching as he spreads his legs and let’s Johnny step between them, gripping Johnny’s hair between his nimble fingers as he leans down to suck on Taeyong’s neck. Taeyong moans loudly when Johnny bites down, claiming him, and he ruts against Johnny like a dog, whining desperately and sending heat straight to Johnny’s cock.

“Do you have something…” Taeyong trails off, leaving the question open-ended, though Johnny knows exactly what he means.

“In my wallet,” he replies, and reaches down to fish it out of the pocket of his pants. He retrieves a condom, setting it down on the counter next to Taeyong and smiling warmly at him when he notices Taeyong’s eyes start to tear up. “I like you, Taeyong,” Johnny says, “I don’t care about the rest.”  


Taeyong beams at that, pulling Johnny in for another kiss that sears into him, branding him for life. Johnny knows now that, even if he tried, he can’t get rid of the burn Taeyong’s leaving on his heart and body.

-

“Did you kill Mr. Lee because you were angry he kept his HIV status from you?” the inspector asks coldly, bent out of shape from the most recent development of their security footage being stolen.

Ten glares. “No, because I didn't kill Taeyong _at all_.”

“Did you kill him because he not only kept his status from you, but also gave you the disease as well?” the inspector continues, dismissing Ten’s answer.

“I didn't kill him!” 

“We have testimony from another witness that you are prone to violence when provoked enough, that you’re entire life was built around violence, that it’s all you know and you’re not afraid to express it. The witness also claims that you went to _prison_ for a violent crime.”

Ten stills in his seat, eyeing the inspector cautiously now.

The inspector smirks, noticing they’ve hit a nerve. “When I had my team run a background check on you, nothing showed up. At least, nothing that indicated past incarceration. I thought it was a bunch of bullshit, until someone from my team realized that records of that kind could have been expunged or hidden for the sake of your rehabilitation after release. So we did a little more digging. You wanna know what we found?” the inspector asks, pride glimmering in their eyes.

Ten stays silent, knowing what’s coming and mentally preparing himself for the onslaught of memories heading his way.

“You, Ten, were arrested for the murder of a seventeen year old boy two years ago. You claimed it was self-defense and it got you a shorter sentence. Five years, out in two if you were on good behavior. I guess you impressed the guards with your pleasant attitude,” the inspector’s tone is mocking now, referring to Ten’s past content throughout their interviews.

“Now,” the inspector continues, looking as if they struck gold, “you’ve been previously incarcerated for killing a boy and then another boy turns up dead. Not only does this boy go to the school your roommate goes to, you had a sexual relationship with this boy that ended poorly. Factor in the HIV debacle and…I think we’ve found ourself a motive. Anything you have to say for yourself?”

Ten eyes the inspector. “Whose the witness? Who told you all of that?”

The inspector smiles pleasantly, though Ten can only shiver. “I can’t reveal that to you, but I think you know, Ten.”  


He did. There was only one person remaining in Ten’s life that knows about what happened with that boy, with Ten’s trial and subsequent imprisonment. Why he was gone for as long as he was, and why his return was so jarring. He knows who it is, because that person was affected the most by what happened with Ten—after Ten himself, of course.

He knows who told the inspector, who planted the seed that lead to his records being uncovered, originally buried to make it easier for Ten to get a job. 

It couldn't have been anyone else, if not Johnny Seo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao,,,,,,hi
> 
> i have something i wanna mention before i go, just something that has been on my mind lately:
> 
> i saw a tweet the other day bashing authors for making members of whatever group the fic your writing is about the "villains" of the story. obviously, i have written yuta and jungwoo in particular as very antagonistic characters with little motivation outside of making others around them miserable. THIS DOES NOT REFLECT MY THOUGHTS ON THEM AS REAL PEOPLE. I DO NOT THINK YUTA AND JUNGWOO WOULD ACTUALLY BEHAVE THIS WAY, NOR DO I BELIEVE THEY ARE LIKE THIS IN REAL LIFE. for this fic's sake, with the ships i chose and the way i constructed each character to fit the elite au, yuta and jungwoo ended up filling those "villain" roles. but that doesn't mean i hate them or want to defame their names or the nct brand in general. i love all of nct, their characters are written this way for the plot's sake, and nothing else
> 
> anyways, i hope u all understand where im coming from, and that u enjoyed the update. i'll see u soon with part seven! we're coming up on the finale, and i couldn't be more excited...two more updates and we'll know the killer! exciting! (and scary lol)


	7. seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im SOOOOOOOO sorry it's been so long!!! my plan was to write a bunch and hopefully finish this bad boy during winter break but that couldn't happen for me. this chapter was particularly hard to write and i just kept putting it off. but the good news is that this is a long one to make up for the delay. enjoy!

part seven.

“I know a lot about you, Mr. Jung,” the inspector says casually, fingers laced together in front of them, elbows bent on the table. “We all do. It’s impossible not to, with your father and his family making it into the paper every other second.”

Jaehyun rubs at his red eyes, sore and itchy from stress and the crying he’d done over the past—well—since he discovered it was his brother’s body they found by the pool. His face is blotchy, swollen and bloated and he knows he looks a mess, but as he faces the inspector, he cannot help but let every fuck he would have given fly out the window.

It’s a small concession, he knows, but it would have made Taeyong proud. He was always doing that, the second he walked into any room.

“What I’m trying to get at, Mr. Jung,” the inspector tries again, voice a lot more gentle this time, “is that I understand that you have been through a tragedy. I’ve been investigating this for so long, I sometimes feel that I am also a part of this, feeling this tragedy with you—“

“You aren’t,” Jaehyun interrupts, tone cold like steel slicing through skin in winter. “You are not my family, nor my friend. You don’t get what I’m going through, so _please_ don’t assume that just because you’ve spent the last two weeks interviewing every freak who so much as looked my brother’s way too long once means you know anything about him or me or my family, because you _don’t_. It’s not possible, you just can’t, so don’t.”

The inspector waits the appropriate amount of time to respond, patiently tapping their fingers against the table as they do so.

“You’re right, Jaehyun,” the inspector concedes, forgoing formalities and calling him by his first name, “I don’t completely understand what you’re going through, at all. Perhaps I meant that, since I’ve been studying this case for so long, I find that I’m sometimes thinking like my short list of suspects, their actions and their motivations, what drives them to do what they do, including potentially murdering Mr. Lee.”

Jaehyun flinches and the inspector ignores it, finally reaching down to open their notebook, flipping to a new page and clicking their pen, looking up when finished.

“I have a couple questions for you, Jaehyun,” the inspector announces, voice cold once more, “I’ll get right to it.”

-

Stumbling down the hallway half-drunk in the early morning isn’t what Ten would call his finest moment, but one could say he hasn’t been having any of those lately.

Inside, Ten knows that the way he’s feeling is his fault. Everything leading up to the drinking and going out was completely his own doing, which is probably why he’s feeling so down on himself. The only good thing he had—ruined—just like that, no take backs.

Of course Ten regrets what he said to Taeyong over the phone. Of course he regrets letting his emotions run wild and his absolute certainty that he now has an STD take complete control over his thoughts and actions. He and Taeyong were always playful during sex, always calling each other names and riling each other up, it always felt so much better fucking someone he was mildly irritated with. But what he said on the phone? No, no one would forgive that, and Ten certainly doesn't expect Taeyong to.

What’s worse is that he misses Taeyong. More than anything, he wishes to be able to have him once again, to hold him in his arms while they sleep, to wake up and see his face smushed into a pillow, lines trailing across his cheek when he finally sits up and rejoins the land of the living. Ten already misses Taeyong’s pretty eyes, so wide and expressive, his soft lips and light kisses, his face when he comes. He didn’t expect to miss Taeyong so much, had plans to find a way to softly break the news that he was done with him (plans he had for much _much_ later, mind) and instead he’s spent the last few days wallowing away in alleys behind bars, wasted and wishing his life away.

Ten nearly falls into the door to his apartment, shoving the key inside and twisting it harshly, jerking his hand back and forth when the key doesn't immediately come out of the lock. After a few more tries, it finally does and the door swings open, hitting the wall beside him. Ten turns around to shut the door, accidentally slamming it back into place, a harsh thud echoing around the tiny apartment, shaking the walls and spooking Ten.

He walks straight back to the bedroom, ready to sleep off the night’s “festivities”, if he could even call them that. Ignoring the noise he hears in the kitchen—maybe someone speaking? Johnny must be cooking—Ten swings the bedroom door open, startling backwards at the sight.

Taeyong lays spread out on Johnny’s bed, under the sheets but with his bare shoulder peaking out, sheets falling just below his nipples and showing off his pretty collarbones where they jut out from his skin. Ten takes in the sight, milking it for all its worth, because pounds of hurt and hatred come barreling down on top of him like heavy rain, and he doesn't want to let it consume him just yet. He wants to revel in seeing Taeyong again, in person and looking as beautiful as ever, sleeping peacefully and ruining Ten’s life without so much as looking his way.

“Ten,” Johnny mumbles from over his shoulder, and Ten swivels around, eyeing his friend, “I think we need to talk.”  


Unable to do anything but nod, Ten lets Johnny walk past him to gently close the bedroom door, walking back out the kitchen with a look on his face that means follow him. Ten does diligently, sitting himself down at a stool and watching as Johnny prepares himself breakfast, pouring that gross almond milk that Taeyong insisted Ten keep for him in the fridge into a bowl full of Lucky Charms. 

“I thought you wanted to talk?” Ten asks, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Johnny looks up, eyebrows raised, and Ten prepares himself to be scolded. 

“Do I need to remind you of the bullshit you screamed at Taeyong a few days ago? Over the phone, I might add?” Johnny mocks, lips pursed and eyebrows drawn together now.

Ten scoffs. “Do I need to remind you that you’re the one who told me in the first place, telling me to keep it a secret from him?”

At that, Johnny flushes red and Ten allows himself to feel smug. “Oh,” Ten says, drawing it out, “so he doesn't know that? Still? I thought the ever-so-moral Johnny would be the first to tell his boo about all his crimes. Repent for your sins, am I right Johnny?”

Johnny huffs, placing his bowl down on the counter and walking over to get a spoon from the sink, wiping it off on his shirt before dipping it into his bowl, ready to use. “You don’t know anything about me and Taeyong, so don’t even try to go there.”

“Yeah?” Ten taunts. “You don’t know anything about me and Taeyong either, too high on your own shit and cowardly to ask what we were.”

“Like you knew,” Johnny spits out, eyes flashing angrily, “like you would have told me anything. I know how you and I work now, how we’ve worked for years. You don't tell me shit, and I get to stay in the dark and live a life of blissful ignorance.”

Ten growls. “If you’re talking about the shit that went down two years ago—“

“Of _course_ I’m talking about that!” Johnny roars, before glancing towards the bedroom door and clearing his throat, voice dropping to a whisper. “You were in trouble and didn't care enough to let me know about it. I could've helped you! That guy tried to kill you, everything you did was protecting yourself—“

“Wrong!” Ten interrupts, trying to keep his voice down too, because as angry as he at Taeyong for keeping his status from him, he knows how much the younger values sleep, and can’t in good conscious wake him up, especially to the sound of he and Johnny having it out in their kitchen. “I did everything I did to protect _you_! The lying, the hiding, all of it. Kept your name out of it so you could finish school and make something of yourself, maybe get the hell out of this dump one day, I don’t know.”  


Johnny pauses then, searching Ten’s face for something, Ten doesn't know. All he does know is the discomfort he feels as Johnny’s eyes bore into him with something more serious than he's ever seen on his friend.

“You and I,” Johnny starts, voice wobbling dangerously, “have been through too much, fought our way out of hell too often, lost too much, to let something petty like this get between us.”  


“It’s not petty—“ Ten starts, retort at the ready.

Johnny puts a hand up, effectively silencing Ten. “You and I both know it, okay? Taeyong…he’s important to me. Like _really_ important to me. I’m still not sure how close you two got, and I’m not really sure I want to know, even now, but he and I have something right now. It’s new, and it’s special to me, and I’m sorry if that hurts you, but you don't get the right to come barging in and slamming doors open and shut, just to turn around and whine about how you went to prison to protect me, ‘cause you and I know _that’s_ bullshit too. I just want things to be okay between us, I don’t wanna fight over this. _Please_.”  


Ten stares, completely enraptured with the man before him, wondering when the hell Johnny grew up. Though, being gone for two years does put things in perspective, especially when you make a sudden return.

“I—“ Ten starts, noticing how Johnny’s expression deflates, like he's expecting retaliation, a battle to end all battles. “Okay,” he says instead, relishing in the way Johnny’s face lights back up again, smile already stretching across his face. “I wanna talk more about this later,” Ten warns, smirk already playing at his lips, “but I’ll leave it alone. For now.”

Before he knows it, Johnny around the counter, scooping Ten up in his arms and squeezing him tighter than ever, cutting off Ten’s air supply effectively. It doesn't matter though, as Ten would let Johnny suffocate him if it meant he got to spend another second locked in his warm embrace, the steady hold of a friend who’s always going to be there for him.

-

It had taken awhile to figure it out, longer than Jaehyun would like to admit.

For as long as he’s been following his father around, he really expected to get a lot more information much faster than he did. The frustration was unending, and to top it all off, Taeyong breathing down his neck and taunting him for not finding anything didn't help at all.

Still, eventually Jaehyun cracks it. It takes listening in on an imperative phone call for everything to click into place. Jaehyun hears something along the lines of “making sure it’s washed” and to “be as discrete as possible, messing up isn’t an option anymore” and suddenly everything is clear. There are only so many things that need to be washed in absolute secrecy, and Jaehyun is sure his father isn't referring to his laundry. 

When his father leaves his office, Jaehyun lurks around the corner, ready to snoop through his father’s office with the precious minutes he’s been given. What he doesn't expect is for his father to leave his phone on the table, or for there to be an open drawer that—Jaehyun discovers when he opens it—is filled to the brim with files. Of course his father would rid himself of an electronic trail, filing all of his doings by paper, only to be seen by those he chooses, plus sneaky sons with a death wish.

Every file Jaehyun looks at confirms what he already knows as he’s looking. The evidence is all there, wrapped up nicely with a little bow tied around it. Jaehyun can’t believe his luck—after days of suspicion, he finally lands on the answer.

And the number his father has most recently called is one Jaehyun already knows.

“Our father and your mother are laundering money. They’re partners.”

Jaehyun takes in Taeyong and Yuta’s expressions, Taeyong’s much more open and expressing pure shock, while Yuta remains on the reserved side, mouth clenched into a hard line, hand tightening around Sicheng’s (who Yuta, of course, insists on bringing when Jaehyun suggested they meet up).

“Cut the shit,” Taeyong immediately demands, sitting forward, spine straight.

“There is no shit,” Jaehyun replies swiftly, trying to cut out all doubt from his brother’s mind. “I was outside his office and heard him on the phone. He said a bunch of really obvious shit, talking about making sure it’s washed and shit like that. When he left, I walked in and there his phone is right on the table, like the dumbass was wanting to get caught,” he glances over at Yuta, who watches on with something akin to amusement in his eyes. “Your mom was the last person our dad called, so he had to be talking to her. I looked through some records he has in a cabinet—again, _dumbass_—and it’s all there. I saw shipment records and blueprints for sites he's planning on building…”

Yuta raises an eyebrow, leaning forward as well. “What were you gonna say?”

“Oh,” Jaehyun startles, cursing himself that he let Yuta notice, “nothing. It’s nothing.”

Taeyong frowns. “It’s not nothing, you stopped talking on purpose, I heard it too. What aren't you saying?” Taeyong regards Jaehyun with suspicion, and _that _won’t end well, no matter what.

“It’s just…” Jaehyun starts, shifting his gaze between Yuta and Taeyong, deciding to settle on Sicheng, the most friendly face of the bunch. Sicheng smiles at him calmly, patiently waiting for Jaehyun to finish. Jaehyun sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “One of the blueprints is for the public high school, the one where the roof collapsed. He’s building…_something_ there, I don’t know what.”

Taeyong gasps, covering his mouth with his hand afterwards. Sicheng gulps, eyes flickering nervously over to Yuta, who looks outright smug now.

“_I know something you don’t_,” Yuta sing-songs in a taunting voice. Jaehyun watches as Yuta waits in silent satisfaction as Taeyong and Sicheng turn to stare at him, giving him their full attention. “So…if I’m being honest, I already knew about the money laundering. My mom made it very clear that I stay out of her business, so of course I raided her office while she was passed out drunk. I’ve known for months. The site at the old school? Yeah, that’s supposed to be a mall soon, and they’re gonna run an underground laundering ring underneath it.”

“Oh my god…” Sicheng trails off, shutting his mouth abruptly when Yuta turns to glare at him, expression meek and already apologetic.

Taeyong looks on in absolute disbelief, stuttering out a laugh that makes him sound deranged. “That’s—this is—“ he struggles to get the words out. “That’s Johnny’s school! Where is he supposed to go next year when the scholarship runs out?! Where are _any_ of the students at that school supposed to go?”

Yuta scoffs. “Since when is that our problem?”

The room is tense, waves of uncomfortable silence rolling over Jaehyun and causing his stomach to roll unpleasantly. Never one to do well in awkward tension, Jaehyun coughs, bringing everyone’s attention back on him. He blushes under the weight of their eyes, but he presses forward.

“Look, the school doesn't matter. What matters is our parents. What are we gonna do about this whole thing?”

Yuta immediately scrunches up his eyebrows, his expression almost adorable if not for the hard edges underneath his skin, keeping him from looking soft and instead making him look intimidating. “Why the hell would we do anything about it?”

“Um,” Taeyong pipes up, loud and voice wobbling dangerously, “because what they’re doing is _illegal_! We have _criminals_ as _parents_, Yuta. Why _wouldn’t _we do something about that?”

“What are we gonna do?” Yuta pressures, turning around to face Taeyong. “We gonna call the cops? Watch our parents go to prison and lose everything we have? Or watch as they get off completely scot-free because they bribed the jury or there was no evidence, leading us to getting disowned for calling the cops in the first place, and lose everything we have that way too? It doesn't matter how you look at it, sitting back and doing nothing is our best option.”

Taeyong sniffs, head tilted up. “I’d rather be disendowed then let them continue on with their crimes. You do bad shit, you get bad shit dealt to you, end of story.”  


“Whatever, Taeyong,” Yuta spits out Jaehyun’s brother’s name like it’s venom, sending shivers down Jaehyun’s spine. “You call the cops and I’ll _kill you_.”

“Woah!” Jaehyun intervenes. “No one’s gonna kill anybody! We’re just all gonna sit back, relax, and let this ruminate for a couple days. I only told you guys because I wanted you to be in the know, something Yuta apparently didn't think was necessary,” Jaehyun ignores the intense glare Yuta sends his way, powering on. “For now, we’ll lay low, and don’t let our parents know that we know anything’s up at all. For all they know, there’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

“But—!” Taeyong quips, protest ready on his lips.

Jaehyun holds up a hand. “We’ll wait a week, see what happens, and meet up again to officially decide what to do. Okay?”

Taeyong grumbles to himself, clearly displeased but he nods. Yuta nods as well, arm wrapped around Sicheng’s shoulder, indicating that Sicheng’s with Yuta, as he always is. 

“Okay,” Jaehyun sighs, mind exhausted already, “cool.”

-

Doyoung’s biggest fear has come to life. Someone other than he and his family know what’s happening behind closed doors, and the someone is extremely influential and can be the catalyst to a lot of horrible things happening to Doyoung’s family.

Still and yet, Doyoung let’s himself get close to Jaehyun, buying into the cheek kisses and back rubs and interpreting them as sincere and sweet.

Because if they’re not, Doyoung isn't sure what he’ll do.

With Jaehyun’s friendship comes promises of freedom, plans of Doyoung escaping his father’s reign, moving into Jaehyun’s room and living there in secret until he’s old enough to not answer to his father anymore. Jaehyun talks of buying a house when he turns eighteen, Doyoung coming to live with him, the two figuring their shit out together as they make it through college and whatnot. Doyoung feels warm inside when Jaehyun looks at him sometimes, his eyes burning with something Doyoung can’t identify. When he talks about Jaehyun and Doyoung going to college together, living together, of Jaehyun _saving _Doyoung, and all Doyoung can think of is he and Jaehyun spending the rest of their lives together.

Doyoung’s in the hallway at school, standing in a corner and waiting for Jaehyun to get there to drive him home. Jaehyun usually has his driver take the two to get some food—since it’s not always guaranteed that Doyoung’s father will feed him—then drop him off to work at the store.

“Waiting for someone?” a voice by Doyoung’s ear startles him. Turning around, he sees Jungwoo lurking behind him, smirk on his face with knowing eyes that throws Doyoung off and leaves him suspicious.

“What do you want?” Doyoung asks, eyes narrowing.

Jungwoo smiles then, beautiful and dangerous, and Doyoung airs on the side of caution. “Nothing. Just curious if you're waiting for someone…Jaehyun, perhaps?”

“What’s it to you?” Doyoung asks.

“Again, nothing,” Jungwoo says, smirk returning to his face in full force, ruining any beauty and instead painting him as the villain Doyoung knows him to be. “Just wondering if you heard about the fundraiser that happened last weekend?”

Doyoung shrugs. Of course he heard about it, every student’s parents were invited and bringing them along, Doyoung, Taeil and Johnny being the exceptions. He heard all about it from Taeil, who had the _luxury_ of attending with Sicheng and Yuta (more of a chore, if someone were to ask Doyoung) and Johnny allegedly snuck in and fucked Taeyong in the bathroom, though Johnny himself won’t confirm it. Doyoung was the only one who had the good fortune of staying home, basking in his time away from the snotty airheads he sees at school and even getting some time away from his father, having left to see his sister and her newborn baby and leaving Doyoung to tend to the store.

“I heard about it,” Doyoung finally responds, “what’s your point?”

“I went,” Jungwoo boasts, chin jutting out as he holds his head high, light hitting his cheekbones just right, giving him sharp angles in his face and making him look angelic. “Jaehyun was there too, we had a lot of _catching up to do_, if you know what I mean.”

At that, Doyoung freezes. Jaehyun, in all the time he's spent with Doyoung recently, has sworn up and down over and over again that he was done with Jungwoo, that he was a leech and a thing of the past.

“Do you wanna see something on my phone?” Jungwoo asks, velvet voice sounding too rich for Doyoung’s sensitive ears. “I think you’ll find it really interesting.”  


Before Doyoung can say a word, Jungwoo is opening his phone, which already has a video pulled up, like he prepared for this—which, of course he did—and he hits play. The video takes a second to load, and then Doyoung is watching with horror as Jungwoo spears himself on Jaehyun, immediately bouncing up and down at a pace that shocks Doyoung. The two are both moaning _very_ loudly, but Jungwoo doesn’t seem the least bit bashful as he keeps the volume at a moderate level, eyes peeled and watching Doyoung’s every reaction.

“Was this…?” Doyoung starts, too afraid to finish his question.

“At the fundraiser?” Jungwoo asks, tone mocking now, “yes, it was. It didn’t take much before I had Jaehyun pinned to a table in a back room while I fucked the memories of our relationship right back into him.”  


Doyoung blanches. “You’re sick.”

“I’m smart,” Jungwoo hums. “You were too pussy to bother going after him, too high on your own drama or too focused on the trophy, _whatever_, the point is, I have him right where I want him. _Always_. You can think the two of you are gonna go prancing into fields of sunflowers and sunshine all you fucking want, but at the end of the day, he’s always gonna wanna bury his cock in one place and one place alone. Honey, you’ll never compare to me. My ass was made for his cock, and he fucks me good and right whenever I want him to. You don’t stand a chance.”

“Un-_fucking_-believable,” Doyoung hisses, shoving away from Jungwoo and jogging down the hallway, slamming the exit door open and standing on the outside lawn for a few moments to catch his breath. 

“Doyoung!” 

Doyoung curses at the sound of his name, knowing exactly who called it and also knowing he’s the opposite of ready for this interaction. Taking a few deep breaths, he turns around and faces Jaehyun, slowly dying inside as he takes in his soft pale skin against the bright glow of the sun above.

“Hey,” Jaehyun smiles brightly, and Doyoung whimpers at the sight of his dimples, digging deep trenches into the fat of his cheeks, pinching his skin adorably. “Where are you off to so fast? I’m still giving you a ride, right?”

“Do you even care about me?” Doyoung asks harshly, sharply contrasting Jaehyun’s sunny tone.

Jaehyun’s smile falters. “What? Of course I do, what are you—“

“Why did you fuck Jungwoo at the fundraiser, Jaehyun?” Doyoung continues, hating the lack of satisfaction he feels when he finally witnesses Jaehyun’s face drop right into the ground, eyes filled with horror and shame and _guilt_. “Why, after everything you said to me about us, about our future, would you go and fuck Jungwoo? Why?”

“I don’t—“ Jaehyun starts, but Doyoung isn’t finished.

“Don’t pretend to care, Jung,” Doyoung spits, finally feeling a small spike of satisfaction at the way Jaehyun cringes at the use of his last name. “Don’t act like you ever wanted anything to do with me. This all started as a game between the two of you, and I’m the idiot who fell for it anyways. I don’t need all this drama, and I certainly don’t need _you_ in my life at all. You can kiss my ass for all I care.”

Jaehyun’s eyes are welling up. “Doyoung, please wait—“

“Why?!” Doyoung screams, finally losing control. “Fuck you, Jaehyun! Just…fuck you! Don’t _ever_ speak to me again, _ever_!”

With that, Doyoung ran away, already anticipating the long journey home and hoping it will help clear the mess that is his head right now.

-

When Ten got the call, he had to admit he was nervous. Never had he said such horrible things to anyone, and seeing the person he’d hurt the most in his entire life again wasn’t something he was necessarily looking forward to,

But it’s Taeyong, and he’ll always come when Taeyong calls.

“What’s up?” Ten asks awkwardly, before kicking himself and realizing he hasn't even done the most important part of making up. “I mean, I’m really really sorry for everything I said—“

“It’s okay,” Taeyong murmurs. “I don’t hold it against you. I would've had a similar reaction, to be completely honest. I wasn’t transparent with you and I gave you a disease that could've been entirely preventable. _I’m_ the one who should be sorry.”

Ten shrugs. “I’ve lived with worse than HIV.”

Taeyong regards him for a long moment, eyes like transparent windows to his thoughts, showing his hesitation as he asks his question. “Like what? What else have you lived through?”

“What has Johnny told you?” Ten asks, unable to help himself, always curious about what’s going on between the two of them.

His bitterness comes back in full force when Taeyong blushes at the mention of Johnny’s name, practically turning into mush before his very eyes. “He didn't say anything, apart from the fact that he moved in with you and was basically abandoned by his parents, I don’t know anything about you specifically.”

Ten nods then takes a deep breath. It’s always hard, having to relive this part of his life. It causes his chest to seize up, almost feeling like a heart attack as he gets short of breath just thinking about it.

“I’m a drug dealer and I went to prison,” Ten blurts. He ignores Taeyong’s gasp at the statements and plows forward, breathing heavily against the rush of blood around his ears, roaring at him angrily to stop talking immediately. “Drugs aren't the reason I went to prison though…when Johnny started at Neo Culture Tech, that’s when I got out. I had been locked up for two years, sending money to Johnny as often as I could to pay the bills.”

“What did you do?” Taeyong asks, voice too small to really be his. He’s looking at Ten through his lashes, looking more vulnerable than he's ever looked, and Ten wishes he could do something to get that look off his face.

It’s only going to get worse.

“I…” Ten trails off, already tearing up. “I killed this guy. It was self-defense, though. He…he knew I ran drugs and tried to blackmail me out of some coke, I wouldn't let him, he started beating this shit out of me. One thing lead to another, next thing I know he's dead on the ground and I’m holding a broken shard of glass from a beer bottle or something.”

Taeyong watches with big eyes filled with heavy tears, falling down his cheeks quickly. Still, his gaze never wavers.

“I did two years, got out early on good behavior. The jury believed me when I said it was self-defense and the judge liked how I seemed to be cleaning myself up in prison. Now that I’m out though…it’s the same shit all over again. I’m back in with the same people I was before I got locked up, I’m back to running shit all over town, crack to the homeless dumbasses who wanna blow the only money they have, weed and ecstasy to the rich ass motherfuckers who live in the valleys. Your people.”

“Ten—“ Taeyong starts, voice wobbling intensely.

“I’ve been trying to do right by Johnny,” Ten continues, “he’s my best friend, he’s my brother. My family. He’s been waiting for me to get out, get right and give him the life he needs. Instead, I’m out doing the same shit I always do, just being dumber. I almost got arrested last week,” Ten sobs, looking down at his hands before looking back up, disdain in his voice. “I haven't told Johnny, he’d shit a brick. He worries too much about me, but I’d murder for him. I’d kill the next motherfucker that tries something with him. I’d lay my life down if it meant he could live. But sometimes…Sometimes I wish…”

He can’t say it, he just can’t. Not after everything else he's already revealed, everything he's told Taeyong about his devotion to Johnny. He can’t say out loud the thoughts that plague him late at night, sleeping in the same room as Johnny.

“Sometimes you wish what?” Taeyong asks, barely above a whisper.

Ten breaks down, crying brokenly now. “Sometimes I wish I could just _leave_. Get the fuck out of that apartment and away from Johnny and the drugs and the cops and somewhere nowhere would ever find me, in solitude, a life of peace and tranquility.”

Taeyong gasps then, reaching out and pulling Ten to him, hugging him close. He’s crying too, Ten notices, but he lets Ten sob into his neck, wetting his skin and the fabric of his shirt. 

“I wanna run away too,” Taeyong whispers, “you already knew that.”

“I would run with you,” Ten replies back, voice heavy with pain. “I would go anywhere with you, even if it meant far from here and everyone we knew and loved. Even if it meant never seeing Johnny again.”

He doesn't entirely know why he's saying what he saying. Maybe a part of him is still mad at Johnny for scooping Taeyong up and fucking him the first chance he got, or maybe he's upset with himself for saying what he did to Taeyong when he found out he was positive. Either way, Ten’s just spewing shit out at this point, hoping Taeyong doesn't push him away for the shit he just told him, and from the looks of it, he isn’t.

Taeyong looks up, cradling Ten’s face in his hands and pulling it down to face Taeyong completely. “Ten,” he starts, completely serious, “let’s run away.”

“What?” 

“I mean it,” Taeyong lets go of his face and grabs his hands now, intertwining their fingers and locking them together. “I think…Johnny says he could grow to love me. I think he might already be there actually, and maybe if I gave it a real shot, I could grow to love him back. I care about him so much, and everything he’s done for me is irreplaceable, but I…I can’t stay here. And I can’t ask Johnny to uproot his entire life just to follow me nowhere, but Ten, we’re the same. We both need an escape. Let’s _escape_ together.”

Ten sputters. “I can’t…I can’t leave Johnny. This is insane, I can’t—“

“_Yes you can_,” Taeyong insists, interrupting Ten. “You can! Johnny will be fine, he’ll honestly probably be better off without the two of us in his life fucking everything up. We can be far, far away from here. Don’t you want that?”

It’s only a few seconds, but the pressure of Taeyong’s eyes on Ten weighs him down into the floor.

“Yes,” Ten whispers, guilt rushing through him like poison. “I want that.”

-

“You’re lucky I like your brother,” Yuta hisses at Taeyong as he unlocks the door to his apartment. “The two of you are weird as fuck, and if I see one thing out of place in my room, I swear to God I’m gonna kill you.”

Taeyong waves it off. “Yeah, yeah, you’ve said that before.” He leads Ten inside, their fingers gripped together tightly. 

The expression on Yuta’s face turns from disgusted to ruthless with a little bit of mirth. “So,” he says, “I thought you were fucking Johnny now.”

“Well,” Taeyong responds simply, letting it hang by itself.

Yuta smirks. “You little slut,” he laughs, walking back towards the door. “I’m gonna go, let you two fuck it out in the guest room—there’s a jacuzzi back there, just help yourselves—and just call me when you're done so I can lock back up. Enjoy,” he finishes dramatically, shutting the door behind him.

Ten and Taeyong stare at each other for a long time, listening to the sounds of Yuta’s footfalls getting quieter and quieter as he walks further away from the apartment. When he’s completely out of earshot, Taeyong walks, not towards the guest bedroom, but to the other side of the apartment.

-

Jaehyun’s phone rings loudly in his ear, startling him awake. Next to him, Jungwoo grumbles sleepily, hugging Jaehyun’s body closer as he seeks out his warmth, Jungwoo’s naked body feeling like silk against Jaehyun’s.

“Hello?” he croaks into the receiver when he picks it up.

“Where are you right now?” his father asks on the other end, sounding out of breath and desperate.

“Home,” Jaehyun replies, looking over at Jungwoo, who’s watching him carefully, with confusion. “Why?”

Jaehyun’s father sighs. “Have you seen Yuta at all today?”

“Yuta?” Jaehyun asks. “No, I haven't seen him in a couple days. Dad, what’s going on?”

“The Nakamotos have been robbed,” Jaehyun’s father announces sullenly. “Mrs. Nakamoto’s diamond necklace was taken, not a single other thing was out of place. Jaehyun…” his father trails off, sounding hesitant. “There was a microchip inside that necklace. It had…a lot of important files on it. Files that Mrs. Nakamoto and I need to continue our partnership.”

Files. Jaehyun feels like he can’t breathe. A diamond necklace has been stolen from the Nakamotos that has files on it that most certainly could implicate his father and Yuta’s mother in a criminal case. Files that prove they are laundering money and building a scheme at the site of the roof collapse.

Yet there’s only one person on Jaehyun’s mind as he thinks over every possible outcome of this information getting out, one person that Jaehyun thinks would be capable of this, would _want_ to do this.

Taeyong.

-

“I’m gonna find that little fucker,” Yuta grunts, “and I’m gonna kill him. He’s not getting away with this, and neither is that cheap rat bastard he brought with him.”

Sicheng runs a hand up and down Yuta’s arm. “It’s going to be okay,” he looks behind his shoulder, “right Taeil?”

Taeil nods, perched behind Sicheng and looking at Yuta with sympathetic eyes. “Right. Everything’s going to work itself out.”

“That necklace had shit on it, shit that implicates my mom,” Yuta reveals. “My family isn't going down because of _Taeyong Lee_,” he spits out the name like it burns his tongue. “Not on my fucking watch.”

Sicheng and Taeil exchange a glance.

“I’m gonna get that necklace back,” Yuta vows, “if I have to pry it from his cold, dead hands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it. one chapter left.
> 
> i'm really excited to write the last chapter, so look out for it soon!!
> 
> last chance to guess who the killer is before this story is finished!


	8. eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here it is...the final chapter...
> 
> an extra warning for this chapter: excessive blood. you'll see what i mean.

part eight.

Ten stands in the pouring rain, hair hanging heavily on his forehead, water dripping down the sides of his face. A harsh chill spreads throughout his body as he stands there waiting, desperate for a reprieve.

“Hey!” Taeyong shouts over the rain. “Sorry it took so long!”

“It’s okay,” Ten replies once Taeyong’s closer. 

“Do you have it?” Taeyong asks, cutting to the chase.

Ten nods, then reaches into his open backpack slung across just one shoulder, digging around for a couple seconds before pulling his hand back out with the necklace in it. “Sorry, I couldn’t find a small enough box to put this in, so I just have it out like this.”

“That’s okay,” Taeyong says, looking at the necklace wide-eyed, like touching it might kill him. “Put it on me.”

Taeyong turns around then, scrunching the little bit of icy blonde hair that hangs below his neckline and pressing it upwards to the necklace doesn't get caught in his hair. Ten is careful, trembling fingers holding onto the necklace. He clumsily wraps his arms around Taeyong, finally clipping the necklace together after a long minute of trying to stop the steady shake in his hands. 

Once Ten let’s the necklace drop against Taeyong’s skin, Taeyong immediately leans backwards into Ten, placing his cold hands around Ten’s arms to keep them wrapped around his thin body. When he’s this close, Ten can hear Taeyong humming contentedly, or at least he can feel Taeyong’s body vibrating against his. 

“It looks so nice on me,” Taeyong says, “expensive, like it shouldn't belong to me.”

Ten snorts. “It _doesn’t_ belong to you.”

Taeyong startles, laughing a moment later. “You’re right!” he exclaims, chuckling. He turns around in Ten’s arms, leaning against his front now and wrapping his arms around Ten’s neck, pulling him closer. “Soon we’ll be free,” he murmurs before leaning in to kiss him.

-

Yuta watches, silently seething, as Taeyong gets out of his car, smiling kindly and waving goodbye to the driver.

“Fucker,” Yuta hisses, looking to Jungwoo. “I can’t believe he has the nerve to show up here like nothing happened.”

Jungwoo hums. “He probably thinks he has all the power now. He knows you know about the necklace, about what’s on it, his father probably gave him the same lecture he gave Jaehyun about it. He probably thinks he’s pulling one over on you.”

“Well he isn’t,” Yuta replies, cold and angry. “If he thinks he can hold this over me to get…_whatever_ it is that he wants from my family, then he has another thing coming. My mother isn’t going down for this shit.”

Quirking his eyebrow and clearly looking to start trouble, Jungwoo glances at Yuta, eyes glinting. “Go tell him that.”

Taeyong is close to crossing paths with them now, and Yuta takes advantage, stopping Taeyong in his tracks.

“How dare you walk around here like you're all high and mighty?” Yuta spits as he crowds Taeyong, face turning red. “I can see the chain of my mother’s necklace peeking out of your sweater, idiot. Give it back.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about, Yuta,” Taeyong responds calmly, looking around him. “Can you move please? I need to get to class.”

Yuta sneers. “I don’t think so. You're a nasty, entitled little bitch boy who thinks everything’s just gonna get handed to him, huh? I don’t care what game you think you're playing, you're gonna lose.”

“Am I?” Taeyong asks, eyebrow raised. “Because right now, I’m the one with the information that will take your family down faster than you can blink and…you’re what? Really mad about it? You don’t have anything on me, Yuta, you never will. The ball’s in my court now,” he finishes happily.

“Because you _took_ the ball, Taeyong!” Yuta all but roars, seeing Jungwoo take couple steps closer as the crowd thins as the bell rings, despite their obvious interest. 

Taeyong smiles. “Yeah, I did. I took the initiative, and now look what’s happened. You’re a chess piece and I’m the master. How does it feel to have no control, Yuta? Nothing you say can get me to hand this necklace over to you, not even sending your little guard dog of a boyfriend over to me, or the other plaything you seem to have picked up in the last couple of months—“

His words are cut off by a sharp slap that Yuta delivers across his face. Taeyong gasps, reaching up to cup his cheek as it heats up from the irritation, looking at Yuta with wide eyes. 

“Okay!” Jungwoo intervenes. “We’re at school, this isn’t the time or place. Yuta, let’s go.”

“Watch it, Taeyong,” Yuta hisses as Jungwoo leads him away. “Before you know it, I’ll have control again. Having the ball won’t matter anymore once I’ve changed the game entirely.”

-

Sicheng whines, tightening his grip on Taeil’s shoulders as he moves, hips rotating in circles from where he sits in Taeil’s lap, Taeil himself sat on a locker room bench after the room cleared. 

“This is wrong,” Taeil whispers, shuddering, “Yuta’s gonna kill us.”  


“I know,” Sicheng moans, moving faster now. “I don’t care. I want you, Taeil, please.”

Taeil nods, tucking his head in Sicheng’s shoulder and letting him use him as he pleases. Sicheng whimpers happily, bouncing with renewed fervor now, a full-body shiver going through him every so often as he hits his prostate with Taeil’s cock.

“So good,” Sicheng murmurs dumbly, reaching to grip Taeil’s face in his hands. He presses their lips together, a loose kiss with no real motivation behind it. “You’re so good to me Taeil.”

“Fuck me, Sicheng,” Taeil whispers hotly into Sicheng’s mouth, enjoying the way Sicheng’s body curls at the sensation, a low moan tumbling from his full lips.

“_What the fuck?_”

Taeil and Sicheng startle, Taeil’s heart rising into his throat at the sight of Yuta standing in the doorway. Sicheng whimpers loudly, like a wounded animal in the wild, standing up off of Taeil’s cock and reaching down to pull his briefs back up over his legs, cheeks colored red from embarrassment and shame and something else Taeil isn’t entirely sure about.

“Y-Yuta it’s not what you think!” Sicheng stumbles over his words, reaching towards his boyfriend with shaking hands and sobbing when Yuta steps away, eyes cold and void of any emotions whatsoever. 

“What did I tell you about fucking Taeil?” Yuta asks, ignoring Sicheng’s pleas entirely.

Sicheng looks down. “Yuta, please don’t do this.”

_“What_ did I tell you about _fucking Taeil_?!” Yuta yells, veins poking out of his skin and twitching dangerously.

Whining, Sicheng looks back at Taeil through his eyelashes, tears running down his cheeks. Taeil desperately wants to wipe them away, but he smartly keeps himself seated, hands covering his slowly softening cock.

“You said not to fuck Taeil without you,” Sicheng mumbles thickly.

“Exactly,” Yuta says, shaking his head, “and you couldn't even do that. It’s like I have to keep you on a leash, Sicheng. I’m…” he trails off, eyes going wide and looking a little crazy. “I’m not doing this anymore. We’re done.”

Sicheng’s head snaps up, and Taeil can only imagine the heartbreak in his expression. “What?! No! Yuta please! I’ll do anything for you, I’ll be good, I won’t even look at Taeil, please don’t leave me!”

Taeil ignores the sting to his heart that Sicheng’s words cause and looks at Yuta with pleading eyes instead. Yuta’s already looking at him, expression settled to resignation, and Taeil knows that nothing either he or Sicheng will say will change his mind. It’s futile, he’s had this decision made, whether or not he had walked in on Taeil and Sicheng together.

“No!” Sicheng wails, and Taeil’s never heard a sadder sound in his life. “No, Yuta! I can’t live without you! Don’t do this! I’m so sorry, I’ll never do this again! I’ll listen to you forever. Put me on a leash, I don’t care! Walk me around campus and fuck me in front of the student body. Piss on me after, call me a bitch, call me _your_ bitch, I want you to! I need it, Yuta, please!”

Yuta shakes his head, the final ruling. Sicheng crumbles to the floor sobbing like a newborn baby in nothing but his briefs. Yuta looks at Taeil for a long moment before leaving, letting the door swing shut loudly behind him.

-

Johnny waits outside the classroom, watching every student leave, before spotting Taeyong’s small frame, walking in front of him and effectively blocking him into a corner. He stares down at him, trying to get a read on the boy that’s somehow captivated both Ten and himself. 

“What’s up, Johnny?” Taeyong asks, tone colored in innocence, and Johnny can’t quite believe his ears.

“…Do you think that I don’t know?” Johnny asks, slightly incredulous. “Ten tells me everything, even still. Plus, I don’t think I could avoid hearing Nakamoto’s rampage, even if I tried. What are you playing at, Taeyong?”

Taeyong’s expression turns sheepish. “I wasn't sure how much you knew. I didn’t…” he trails off, a line forming between his eyebrows as his face pinches up with concentration. “I didn’t know how to tell you about everything, I guess.”

“Please tell me it’s a joke,” Johnny says, not exactly successful in keeping the plea out of his voice. “What do you have to run away for?”

“I don’t expect you to understand, Johnny,” Taeyong replies, already moving to push past him, huffing. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you at all—“

“Give Nakamoto his mother’s necklace back at least!” Johnny interrupts, his voice rising with his increasing anger. “This is insane! _Stealing_? You have all the money in the world, Taeyong! If you're really gonna run away, why don’t you use some of it?”

Taeyong glares. “You know why, Johnny! I can’t be owing them any favors. I need to get out of here.”

“Taeyong,” Johnny says, borderline begging at this point, “don’t do this. Return the necklace and stay here. I can talk some sense into Ten, we can sort this out, get everything back to normal—“  


“No, it can’t go back to normal, Johnny!” Taeyong screams, effectively cutting him off. “It can’t! Normal almost killed me, I can’t go through it again. I need…I need to just leave, start over, pretend to be someone else, I don’t care. You might think it’s crazy, but I can’t stay here any longer.”

“Taeyong—“ Johnny tries.

“Ten understands,” Taeyong says firmly, eyes carefully guarded. “He understands what I’m doing, and he accepts it. He’s helping me. Can you understand, Johnny? Please?”

Johnny scowls, already moving to shake his head. 

“Johnny,” Taeyong’s voice is soft, and Johnny hates how it melts him right down to his core. “Will you stand aside? Let me do this?”

It’s a moment’s hesitation, but it’s a hesitation nonetheless, and the sight of Johnny visibly hesitating at Taeyong’s words causes his expression to absolutely crumple. The effect that that has on Johnny is ridiculous, and he suddenly feels every fiber of his being wanting to please Taeyong, to get his expression lifted back up again. 

“Okay,” Johnny concedes, sighing heavily at the way Taeyong’s expression brightens. “I guess. Don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

“I won’t,” Taeyong murmurs, “I know what this is doing to you. I’m not oblivious.”

But he must be, Johnny thinks, if he’s perfectly okay with leaving Johnny behind after making him swear up and down that he could grow to love Taeyong forever.

-

The school has transformed. Hallways that were already pristinely cleaned every morning and night are adorned with flashy decor, glittering under the low lights they have hanging from the ceiling to replace the usual school lighting. Purples and blues cast shadows over the lockers as posters hung from the windows cast a different colored light, and confetti is spread tastefully across the floor as the hallway winds around campus, leading to the gym, the entrance of the end-of-year party.

The gym is packed, a popular rap song playing over the speakers, rattling Jaehyun’s eardrums as Jungwoo tugs on his hand, trying to get him out onto the dance floor. 

“Baby,” Jungwoo croons in Jaehyun’s ear, “if you dance with me, I’ll let you fuck me in the pool like you’ve always wanted to. Get me good and wet.”

It’s not Jungwoo’s words that finally get Jaehyun out to the dance floor, but rather his pliant nature. Pleased, Jungwoo sends a dangerous smile back at him, fingers curling through Jaehyun’s as he leads him out. Jungwoo lands soft, wet kisses against Jaehyun’s face, running down his cheek and neck, ending at his collarbone, where there’s already an existing mark. Jungwoo continues to gnaw on Jaehyun, giggling when Jaehyun winces at the tender skin. 

“Let me dance on you, baby,” Jungwoo breathes, nipping at Jaehyun’s earlobe after, smirking as he pulls away.

“N-no,” Jaehyun stutters as Jungwoo’s hand reaches down to cup his crotch. “I’m not doing this anymore. Please, I’m done.”  


Jungwoo looks up questioningly. “What, baby?”

“This…” Jaehyun shakes his head, a year’s worth of exasperation and bullshit overwhelming him. “This is over, Woo. For good.”

He can feel Jungwoo stilling in his grip. “Huh?” he sounds absolutely dumbfounded, as if there’s not even a small part of him that anticipated this, even after every shady move he pulled to bring Jaehyun back to him, to keep he and Doyoung apart.

Doyoung…

“I need to talk to Doyoung,” Jaehyun mutters, walking away and leaving Jungwoo behind. He’s proud of himself when he realizes he can’t bring himself to care about him.

Finding Doyoung is easy. He’s standing apart from the crowd, hunched in on himself and watching the festivities with disdain. Next to him, Johnny is towering above everyone within the nearest vicinity, talking Doyoung’s ear off about something he doesn't seem to be particularly interested in.

“Doyoung,” Jaehyun breathes when he steps in front of him, apprehensive. “Is there anyway we could talk?”

“No,” Doyoung says shortly, looking away before he can even get the word out.

Johnny looks between the two curiously, thankfully not saying anything as Jaehyun tries to gather his courage and dignity to say what he really wants to say.

“Please,” he says, “Doyoung, I have something to tell you.”

“I’m not interested in what you have to say—“  


“I love you.”  


Muttering something about punch, Johnny slides off, looking back over his shoulder with wide, confused eyes. Doyoung’s head had snapped back into place, and he’s looking at Jaehyun dead-on, adorable eyes as wide as he's ever seen them, bottom lip pulled between his bunny teeth.

“What?”

“I love you, Doyoung,” Jaehyun says, pouring every ounce of warmth and love and gooey mush he has in his body into these words, “I’m _in love_ with you, actually. I think there’s a difference. In any case, I love you and I’m in love with you, and I really wanna be with you. Please forgive me for being an absolute tool.”

Doyoung sniffs, eyes shifting around to the students milling about around them, unaware that Jaehyun’s pouring his heart and soul onto the dance floor. “I’ve given you so many chances,” Doyoung mumbles, only audible for himself and Jaehyun. “Way too many chances. The things I’ve told you…”  


“I haven't told anyone,” Jaehyun insists. “I never would, you have to believe that.”

“I do,” Doyoung nods. A pause. “…Do you really love me?”

Jaehyun breathes a sigh of relief. “I think I’ve loved you since you showed me your scars. Since I saw you vulnerable and needing someone to be there for you. I wanted to be that for you, I still do. I want you, Doyoung, and I want everything that goes with it.”

Doyoung nods, tears falling from both eyes quickly, catching on the corners of his lips. “I want you too,” he whines, “I love you too.”

Jaehyun’s heart skips a beat. “You do?”

“I do,” Doyoung’s smiling so big now, revealing almost every tooth in his mouth, eyes disappearing behind the soft folds of his cheeks. “I really do.”

Laughing, Jaehyun closes the gap between them and kisses Doyoung firmly, keeping his tongue in his mouth until Doyoung makes the first move, making a pleased noise when Doyoung runs his own tongue along the seam of Jaehyun’s lips, asking for entrance. 

“Dance with me,” Jaehyun breathes into Doyoung’s mouth, grinning at the quick nods of Doyoung’s head in response.

Kissing him one last time, Jaehyun leads Doyoung out to the middle of the dance floor, feeling lighter than he’s felt all year.

-

“Are you doing okay?” Taeil asks unsurely, eyes trained on the same spectacle Sicheng’s are.

Sicheng gulps, audible even over the ridiculously loud music blasting throughout the gym. “I’m fine,” he says lowly, “why wouldn't I be?” 

Taeil averts his eyes back to the train wreck. Jungwoo wraps a hand around Yuta’s neck from where he’s standing behind him to bring their faces together, sticking his tongue out and meeting Yuta in the middle, their kiss wet and messy and not hiding anything for the sake of public decency. Given the way Jungwoo is grinding back against Yuta, Taeil wouldn't be all that surprised if Yuta had slipped his dick inside of him. 

Yuta’s hands run down Jungwoo’s sides to grip his hips, shifting his ass back against Yuta’s crotch, Jungwoo catching on and moving his hips in slow, sensual circles. Yuta’s mouth opens, and Taeil can imagine his moan, hearing every one he let out in Taeil’s own ear as he was rutting against him. Next to him, Sicheng blanches.

“I feel sick to my stomach,” he mutters, leaving Taeil’s side and exits the gym. Taeil thinks for a moment of following him, deciding against it when the music suddenly stops, the principal coming to stand on the stage setup they have at the front of the gym.

“Everyone! Could I have your attention please? It’s time to announce the recipient of this year’s trophy!”

Taeil straightens up subconsciously. Ever since Doyoung had been sent to last place in the competition, Taeil had completely forgotten about the trophy. Sending a fellow student to South Korea for the next year is a huge deal, and Taeil’s honestly curious to see who won it, if not Doyoung. 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Johnny teases from beside him, startling Taeil, “I’m sure you didn’t win.”

“I can say the same for you,” Taeil jabs back, grinning when Johnny’s smacks his teeth indignantly.

The principal taps the mic, effectively silencing the crowd. “This year’s recipient was a silent competitor. I don’t think we even realized just how hard this individual was working all year long to earn their spot as the number one contender for the trophy. For that, we have to applaud Taeyong Lee for his extremely diligent work all year long!”

Confused and scattered applause spreads throughout the crowd. Taeil looks at Johnny dubiously, who can only shrug. “I didn't even think he was keeping up with his grades, what with the Ten of it all.”

Eventually, the principal, uncomfortable with the awkward, stilted clapping, cheers into the mic. “Mr. Lee? Where are you? Come up and accept your scholarship!”  


Taeil, so sure Taeyong would be a no-show, is surprised when he finally appears from the side of the crowd, looking worse for wear. He has dark circles under his eyes and his hair is matted, not fluffy and styled like usual. His clothes are rumpled and…are they Ten’s? Taeil looks to Johnny again, who now stands with a scowl on his face, explaining absolutely nothing. Last Taeil had heard, Taeyong and Johnny were trying to be together. Johnny’s apparent disdain for Taeyong’s appearance only serves to further confuse Taeil.

Taeyong makes it up to the stage, grabbing the trophy with shaky hands and smiling tightly. “Thank you,” he says simply, body drooping with the effort of having to hold the heavy trophy.

Out of the corner of his eye, Taeil spots movement, and when he looks around Johnny, he notices Yuta slinking out the side of the gym, the same exit Sicheng took. Taeil’s sure that Yuta’s going to try and find Sicheng and torment him further, so with a sympathetic pat on Johnny’s back, Taeil walks away, moving as quickly as possible to follow Yuta out the side exit.

-

Taeyong sighs heavily, letting the door to the locker room swing shut behind him as he steps out onto the pool deck. The trophy swings like a pendulum at his side as he lets his arm loosen, not worth the effort of holding it up. 

He finally sets the trophy down at the edge of the pool, sitting down on the damp concrete, letting his feet dip into the pool, having removed his shoes earlier. Everything is quiet and serene, and Taeyong takes a second to breathe, trying to get his intrusive thoughts to leave his mind, when the locker room door swings open.

“Oh—“ Taeyong looks up and smiles weakly at the intruder, “I’m sorry, I was looking for a place to get some fresh air.”

“It’s okay, Sicheng,” Taeyong says as warmly as possible, knowing he must sound drained. “You can come in.”

“Okay,” Sicheng replies softly, taking a couple more steps. 

Taeyong reaches up to fiddle with the chain around his neck, a habit of his within the last couple of days, and Sicheng stops walking when he notices. 

“C-can I please have that necklace, Taeyong?” Sicheng stutters. “It doesn't belong to you.”

Taeyong scoffs, sick of everyone trying to police him and this godforsaken necklace. “It doesn't belong to you either.”

Sicheng huffs, taking another step, and Taeyong gets up on instinct. “I know that,” Sicheng says, cheeks flushing slightly. “But it belongs to Yuta’s mother, so if you could please—“

“Ah, Yuta,” Taeyong croons, tone edging on mocking. “I heard about you two. I was really sorry to hear that he dropped you for being a pathetic whore that couldn't keep his legs closed for more than five minutes.”

It’s cruel, Taeyong knows. Sicheng’s sex life isn't Taeyong’s business, and even if it was, Taeyong has no right to criticize how other people get around. Living the way he does, HIV positive and taking medication everyday to fight it, he knows better than to call another a whore, but the anger curling at his gut had flicked a switch inside Taeyong, igniting an ugly monster that’s now rearing it’s ugly head at the mere sight of Sicheng, standing tall and proud before him.

In a bold attempt, Sicheng closes the gap between them and attaches his grip to the chain, tugging feebly. Laughing, Taeyong reaches out with two hands and shoves Sicheng, watching with sick satisfaction as he tumbles to the ground.

“That’s all you are, isn’t it?” Taeyong says, judgement seeping into his tone, full on mocking Sicheng now. “Someone’s little whore. Everyone knows all you’re good for is being a good little fuckhole from both ends, sucking and taking cock up the ass like it’s your fucking job. I’m not even sure everyone knows your name, but they do know that you’re Yuta’s little bitch.” Taeyong laughs when Sicheng winces, taking a step back. “Aw, did that hurt? It’s the truth. You let him manipulate you into being his silent little cocksleeve, ready to take his dick at any second of any day, no matter where you are or what you're doing. You’re basically his sex slave, but you're definitely not his boyfriend.”

The flush spreading across Sicheng’s face turns a violent red as anger leaks into Sicheng’s eyes. He reaches out and grabs at Taeyong’s neck, just barely missing. There’s a small scuffle, and then there’s a heavy thunk and a squishing sound, and pain shoots out of the side of Taeyong’s head, like sparks.

Whimpering, Taeyong falls to his knees, numbness spreading throughout his body and rendering him motionless. He falls back, laying flat on his back. His arm feels like it’s floating, like it’s in the pool, but when he looks over, he can only see red spreading across the white floor, his arm coated in it. Moaning in pain and panic and a million other things, Taeyong reaches back and touches the side of his head, making a strangled sound when his fingers come back painted in thick, red blood.

“No,” Sicheng whispers. “No, I-I—this isn’t—_no_!”

Taeyong sees Sicheng standing above him, trophy clutched in his hand, dripping with blood—_Taeyong’s_ blood.

“S-Sicheng,” Taeyong chokes, feeling blood well up in throat the force of speaking. “Help m-me. Help me, p-please.”

“I—“ Sicheng squeaks, kneeling down and setting the trophy on the floor beside him, in the growing pool of blood surrounding them. His hands reach around Taeyong, jostling him slightly, and if Taeyong could feel anything at all he knows he would feel shooting pain at his head scraping against the concrete. He can faintly hear the clinking of the chain around Taeyong’s neck, and his heart sinks into his stomach when he realizes Sicheng’s true intentions. 

“I’m so sorry,” Sicheng whimpers, eyes filling with tears. He picks the trophy back up, and with one hand clutching that and the other holding Yuta’s mother’s necklace, he leaves, rushing, squeaking footsteps echoing around in Taeyong’s slowly fading mind.

He doesn't know how long he lays there, choking on his own blood. He can feel it trickling out of his ear, dripping around him like a faucet that isn’t turned all the way off, but his limbs are too weak to move, and his stomach rolls at the thought of turning over to start crawling for help.

The door swings open again, and Taeyong thinks for a second that it’s Sicheng back with help, but his hope sinks right back into his chest when a tentative “Taeyong?” rings throughout the room.

And it sounds like…_no_.

“Taeyong…Taeyong, oh my God, _no!_” Ten wails from across the room, and in the time it takes Taeyong to blink, Ten is next to him, kneeling on the ground directly in the pool of Taeyong’s blood. “What happened?!”

“_Shhhhhhhhhhh_,” Taeyong drags out, trying to get his tongue to curl around the word _Sicheng_, but failing as he feels blood bubbling in his mouth. He inhales weakly, wheezing the entire time, before he coughs out his exhale, blood splattering from his mouth like a broken fountain.

“Never mind,” Ten says softly, reaching up to smooth Taeyong’s sweaty bangs off his forehead. “Don’t try to talk. Just stay still and silent for me, alright?”

Taeyong nods, putting all his energy into a smile for Ten, wanting to give him something pretty to look at outside this entire mess. He can feel the blood coating his teeth however, so he closes his mouth, smacking his lips before he opens his mouth again and attempts to inhale again, another wheezing breath that he can feel rattling around in his chest.

He watches as Ten’s eyes move all over his body, seemingly coming to the conclusion that the blood is all coming from the gaping wound in the side of Taeyong’s head. Taeyong watches every bit of determination and hope drain from his lover’s expression, and he feels his own will slowly fading.

“I—“ Taeyong starts, cutting off to gurgle around some blood. He spits it out, turning his head to the side to let the blood pooling up run out of his mouth in a steady stream out the side. “I’m…dying,” he finally states, looking up at Ten, whose already looking down at him with eyes full of unshed tears. “Right?”

Ten reaches down and cradles Taeyong’s head in his hands, smiling tightly. “Yeah,” Ten answers, tears now falling freely, hitting Taeyong’s face like heavy raindrops. “You’re dying, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“I-I can,” Taeyong pauses to swallow, coughing again once he’s finished, watching more splatter across the floor. “I can f-finally b-b free?”

Ten sobs, leaning over Taeyong’s body fully, his warmth providing a comfortable blanket over Taeyong, like a shroud of clouds straight from heaven. “If you want,” Ten replies, voice wobbling dangerously, his words barely decipherable to Taeyong’s slow brain. “You can be free if you want to.”

Taeyong moans painfully. “O-okay. I’m g-gonna…”

He feels Ten nod against his neck, tear wetting the skin not already covered with layers of thick blood. “Taeyong, I love you,” he whines out. “I’ve always loved you, since the bathroom at Johnny’s party. I love you, I’ll always love you.”

“I…” Taeyong starts, chest heaving with effort as his breaths start to come heavier and blanketed in blood. “I l-love…”

_I love Johnny. I love you. I love Johnny and you both with all my heart. I promise my heart has enough space for both of you, I wish you could both make space for each other, and we could all love each other, because I never wanted to choose. _

_I love you both the same. It’ll be this way until I die._

“I love…” Taeyong trails off once again, fading even further.

With one last rattling breath, Taeyong’s chest sags on a wet exhale, and it never comes back up.

-

Taeil pushes Yuta against the lockers, his anger already reaching its peak. “What do you think you’re doing?!” he screams. “Do you have any idea what watching you and Jungwoo dance like that together did to Sicheng?”

Yuta smirks. “Of course I do. Why do you think I did it?”

“You—“ Taeil stops, reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose. “He loves you,” he says simply. “God only knows why, you treat him like absolute garbage and give him bare minimum affection in return for going along with _literally everything you say_. He’s completely devoted to you, and if it weren't for you bringing me into this in the first place, he never would've given me the time of day.”

“Wrong,” Yuta snaps, “I saw the way he looked at you, before you even noticed him. He would watch you like a scared little woodland creature, and I had to sit back and watch while you sucked up all my boyfriend’s attention. So I brought you in, yeah because I wanted instant access to two hot mouths whenever I wanted, but also to appease him. He was completely infatuated with you the second he saw you, I had to capitalize off that somehow.”

Stunned doesn't even begin to describe how Taeil’s feeling. “I don’t—“

“Then he goes and let’s you fuck him without me,” Yuta spits, “on _his _terms, as if he holds all the cards in this relationship. No, _I_ say who fucks who when and how, _not him_. He broke our deal, so I broke his heart.”

Right, the deal. The same deal that forbade Taeil and Sicheng from sleeping together without Yuta in the first place. The deal that gave Yuta every piece of power in their three-way relationship.

“Sicheng needs you, Yuta,” Taeil says calmly, “he can live without me, he can’t live without you. So punish me. Use me however you want, take all your anger out on me, _please_, but take Sicheng back afterwards.”

Yuta raises an eyebrow. “Whatever I want?”

Taeil steps closer. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”

-

Sicheng stumbles into the locker room, heading straight for the sinks. He can hear grunting and the occasional whimper, as well as the telling sound of skin smacking against skin, and yet it doesn't register. All he can think about is the blood drying against his skin, caking up and leaving a mess all over him.

Panting heavily, Sicheng rounds the corner, his eyes falling on Taeil and Yuta locked together, Taeil bent over with Yuta standing behind him. Stopping in his tracks, the weight of the necklace in his hand suddenly seems much heavier than the trophy. 

“Ah, fuck!” Taeil whines out, looking back at Yuta before looking forward, screaming when he sees Sicheng standing there. Yuta quickly pulls out, pulling his pants back up and staring long and hard at Sicheng. Taeil slowly follows suit, his eyes trailing over Sicheng’s body, clearly noticing the sever bloodstains covering Sicheng’s shirt, arms and hands.

“W-what’s all over you, Sicheng?” Taeil asks as Yuta steps in front of him, eyes drilling holes into Sicheng’s head. “Is that blood?”

Sicheng holds his arm out.

Yuta’s eyes snap from Sicheng’s face to the chain dangling from Sicheng’s balled up fist, glinting in the dim light of the locker room. He slowly reaches out, uncurling Sicheng’s fingers from the necklace, letting it fall into his own palm and setting his eyes on the diamonds, counting them under his breath.

“What—“ Taeil stops himself, eyes darting back and forth between Sicheng and Yuta. “_Whose blood is that_?”

“Sicheng,” Yuta’s voice cuts in, “we need to get all this blood off of you.”

Nodding, Sicheng robotically turns towards the sinks, catching sight of his face, bloated from crying and stress. Yuta comes to stand next to him, removing the trophy from his grip and placing it onto the counter with a soft thunk.

“Taeil,” Yuta directs calmly, “go get Sicheng a clean shirt.”

“I—what—“ Taeil stutters. “Is that…is that Taeyong’s blood? Did you _kill Taeyong_, Sicheng?”

Yuta slams the trophy back down against the counter, startling a shriek out of Taeil, while Sicheng remains firmly in place, hands now under a steady stream of cold water, the sink turning rust underneath his hands. 

“Did I ask for a running commentary or did I tell you to get Sicheng a clean shirt?” Yuta snaps, glaring at Taeil.

Taeil stares meekly, expression disbelieving. “You…you told me to get a clean shirt. Yuta, if he killed Taeyong, we need to—“

“Get a clean shirt,” Yuta interrupts, “and then _shut the fuck up_.”

Yuta’s hands reach down to hold Sicheng’s, massaging them under the water and cleaning off the more difficult pieces of Taeyong’s clumped up, dried blood. “It’s gonna be okay,” Yuta murmurs softly, “you’re gonna be just fine.” Sicheng realizes he’s crying again, tears mixing in with the blood and water. “Sicheng, baby,” his heart nearly breaks all over again hearing the nickname fall from Yuta’s lips. “Look at me.”

Sicheng looks up, and Yuta is looking back at him with such intent, he feels as though the world is right again, that everything has been set to normal once more. 

Yuta leans in and kisses Sicheng, their lips moving languidly together like they do on lazy Sunday mornings. “Everything’s gonna be just fine,” Yuta murmurs against Sicheng’s lips, just as Taeil returns with a clean shirt.

They finish scraping the blood from his hands and arms, and then Yuta instructs Sicheng to remove his shirt, balling it up and leaving the room. Taeil approaches him with a cautious expression, new shirt held out and ready to be slipped into. Sicheng puts it on and Taeil buttons it up for him, giving him a significant look that Sicheng is too tired to understand right now.

When Yuta returns, the shirt and the trophy are both gone, and the three return to the party as if nothing happened.

-

_Three weeks later._

-

Jaehyun and his mother and father stand over the closed casket, his mother weeping loudly and his father standing stoic, Jaehyun following in his footsteps for appearances. Inside, he knows, he’s been crying for weeks.

The ceremony is brief. Dressed in black, the Neo Culture Tech community gathers in the gloomy weather, rain spattering against everyone’s foreheads every so often. 

Afterwards, the large group dwindles down, only a couple handfuls remaining on the damp grass, all clumped together in small groups, each group waiting for another to leave first. Sicheng, Yuta and Taeil stand as far from the casket as possible, Sicheng hyperventilating as quietly as possible.

“Baby,” Yuta mutters against Sicheng’s lips as he kisses him softly to slow his breathing, “if you don’t calm down, it’s only gonna look worse for you. Please, for me, slow down and stop freaking out.”

Taeil stands off to the side slightly, watching Johnny and Ten stand hunched together, sneaking glances back at the casket and sharing looks he can only pretend to understand. Doyoung waits a little bit farther away, shooting desperate glances in Jaehyun’s direction, and Taeil remembers the joy on their faces as they danced together before the cops arrived to the dance floor with the worst news imaginable.

“Are we back together now?” Sicheng asks, and of all things he could be worried about, Taeil can’t help but roll his eyes. “You’ve been treating me like a boyfriend again ever since I got you the necklace back.”

Yuta quickly shushes Sicheng, and when Taeil follows his eyes, he recognizes the inspector that’s been questioning everyone relentlessly for the past three weeks as they try to determine who killed Taeyong.

“Listen to me,” Yuta says softly as the inspector announces they’ve come to a point where they can confidently make an arrest. “We’re together, but the second you step out of line, as far as a toe, I will go to the police and tell them everything I know, everything I _did_ to help you cover up what _you_ did. You do everything I tell you to, understand?”

Sicheng nods fervently, leaning in to accept Yuta’s kiss.Before Taeil can even try to unpack any of that, Yuta reaches around and pulls him in as well, kissing him slowly and softly before directing their attention to the inspector,

Everyone watches with baited breath as the inspector approaches a group, handcuffs out and expression grim, if not a little triumphant. After enough digging, enough prying, and enough background checks, they’ve safely determined the killer. They couldn't be more sure.

“Chittaphon Lee,” the inspector announces, “you are under arrest for the murder of Taeyong Lee.”

“What?” Johnny asks, ahead snapping around to Ten, who stands next to him pale-faced and in complete shock. “Ten? What are they talking about?”

“You have the right to remain silent, everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

“I didn't do it,” Ten sobs as handcuffs are slapped to his wrists, “Please, Johnny, you have to believe me, I didn't do it! Not this time! I love him, I would've never killed him! No! Please! I didn't do it!”

“You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney one will be appointed to you.”

Taeil watches with sick fascination as Ten is dragged away from the gravesite, Taeyong’s parents finally caving and sobbing into each other’s arms. Johnny stands stoic, staring dumbly at Ten as he’s dragged across the dirt and grass. Doyoung rushes to Jaehyun, carding a hand through his hair and tucking his face into his neck.

“Do you understand your rights as I have read them to you?” 

“_No_!” Ten wails. “I didn’t do it! He died in my arms! I love him! I didn’t do this! No!”

His desperate cries are ringing in Taeil’s ears for the rest of the day as he watches Ten get stuffed into a police car, carted off to a fate arguable worse than death.

-

“I need to confess something.”

Taeil and Doyoung stare at Johnny with wide, untrusting eyes. Johnny stares right back, refusing to let the tears hit, like they had been prime to do if he let his eyes stay open for too long nowadays.

The lake the three have met up at paints a pretty picture in the background as Johnny looks down at his feet, preparing himself for what he's about to say.

“Taeyong was gonna run away with Ten. When he stole Yuta’s mother’s necklace, it was to get money to run away. I knew all about it, and I did nothing. When I found the two of them, the necklace was gone. I don’t know where he hid it, Ten doesn't either, but either way, he's dead because of me. I knew and I didn't say anything, so it’s my fault.”

“No, Johnny,” Doyoung murmurs, stepping forward, thin hands shaking as he reaches up to cup Johnny’s cheeks. “It wasn't you…Ten killed him. It’s his fault, not yours. You didn't do anything Taeyong didn't want you to do.”

Taeil nods. “Doyoung’s right, Johnny. Ten…it makes me sick to my stomach thinking about it. Part of me can’t believe it was him all along. It seems…outlandish. Completely fake.”

“But it isn’t,” Doyoung finishes gently. “We all thought Ten was better now that he's out, and clearly we were wrong, but that’s not on us. What Ten did is entirely on Ten and no one else. We can only blame him.”

Johnny let’s himself tear up, his eyes welling up heavily and completely uncontrollably. “He’s gone,” he says shortly. “They both are…I’m never gonna see either of them again.”

“I know,” Doyoung whispers. 

“I miss him,” Johnny sobs, and he isn't entirely sure who he's talking about, or if he's talking about both. “I want him back.”

Taeil comes to stand on Johnny’s other side, stroking down his side soothingly. “We know.”

“I’ll never forgive this,” Johnny vows, “I promise him. I’ll never forgive this for as long as I live.”

The three stand by the lake, looking out on it’s surface, only one of them knowing the truth of what happened, with the full intent of keeping it that way for the rest of his life.

the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...............hi??
> 
> this chapter followed the plot of elite's season 1 finale pretty closely compared to other chapters, and i've read every comment i've gotten, so for those that have seen elite before, the killer probably didn't come as much of a surprise...
> 
> still, i hope i brought you some enjoyment reading this. it's currently 2am where i live and i just finished the chapter, now i'm in a rush to upload it and see what everyone thinks. i think everyone knew going in that this wouldn't have much of a happy ending, but i hope no one leaves this experience feeling unsatisfied.
> 
> please, leave a comment with your reactions, thoughts, questions, conspiracies, anything! i love reading through them, and i'd love having a conversation with any of you about what you leave me with :)
> 
> another note: as of right now, this story will not have a sequel, but if you want, you can subscribe to me or this story in particular to get any updates on this story in particular or others i'm working on in the near future!
> 
> follow me on twitter @ suhyeols and instagram @ 666hyun !!!


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